The A.B.C. Murders

Words, madmoiselle, are only the outer clothing of ideas.

It's like all those quiet people, when they do lose their tempers they lose them with a vengeance.

Our weapon is our knowledge. But remember, it may be a knowledge we may not know that we possess.

Who are you? You don't belong to the police?' 'I am better than the police,' said Poirot. He said it without conscious arrogance. It was, to him, a simple statement of fact.

I admit," I said, "that a second murder in a book often cheers things up." - Hastings

Vous eprouves trop d'emotion, Hastings, It affects your hands and your wits. Is that a way to fold a coat? And regard what you have done to my pyjamas. If the hairwash breaks what will befall them?' 'Good heavens, Poirot,' I cried, 'this is a matter of life and death. What does it matter what happens to our clothes?' 'You have no sense of proportion Hastings. We cannot catch a train earlier than the time that it leaves, and to ruin one's clothes will not be the least helpful in preventing a murder.

If one could order a crime as one does a dinner, what would you choose? . . . Let’s review the menu. Robbery? Frogery? No, I think not. Rather too vegetarian. It must be murder—red-blooded murder—with trimmings, of course.

There is nothing so terrible as to live in an atmosphere of suspicion - to see eyes watching you and the love in them changing to fear - nothing so terrible as to suspect those near and dear to you - It is poisonous - a miasma.

I suppose next time I come home I shall find you wearing false moustaches—or are you doing so now?' Poirot winced. His moustaches had always been his sensitive point. He was inordinately proud of them. My words touched him on the raw. 'No, no, indeed, mon ami. That day, I pray the good God, is still far off. The false moustaches! Quelle Horreur!’ He tugged at them vigorously to assure me of their genuine character. 'Well, they are very luxuriant still,' I said. 'N’est-ce pas? Never, in the whole of London, have I seen a pair of moustaches to equal mine.' A good job too, I thought privately.

Speech, so a wise old Frenchman said to me once, is an invention of man's to prevent him from thinking.

The spoken word and the written - there is an astonishing gulf between them. There is a way of turning sentences that completely reverses the meaning.

Try and vary your methods as you will, your tastes, your habits, your attitude of mind, and your soul is revealed by your actions.

But I believe in luck - in destiny, if you will. It is your destiny to stand beside me and prevent me from committing the unforgivable error." "What do you call the unforgivable error?" "Overlooking the obvious.!

And then?" "And then," said Poirot. "We will talk! Je vous assure, Hastings - there is nothing so dangerous for anyone who has something to hide as conversation! Speech, so a wise old Frenchman said to me once, is an invention of man's to prevent him from thinking. It is also an infallible means of discovering that which he wishes to hide. A human being, Hastings, cannot resist the opportunity to reveal himself and express his personality which conversation gives him. Every time he will give himself away." "What do you expect Cust to tell you?" Hercule Poirot smiled. "A lie," he said. "And by it, I shall know the truth!

Death, mademoiselle, unfortunately creates a prejudice. A prejudice in favour of the deceased... There is a great charity always to the dead.

...Murder, I have often noticed, is a great matchmaker.

In the midst of tragedy we start the comedy.

You yourself are English and yet you do not seem to appreciate the quality of the English reaction to a direct question. It is invariably one of suspicion and the natural result is reticence.

If the little grey cells are not exercised, they grow the rust.

His mind, shrinking from reality, ran for safety along these unimportant details.

Even the most sober of us is liable to have his head turned by success.

In fact there is only your own instinct? Not instinct, Hastings. Instinct is a bad word. It is my knowledge-my experience-that tells me that something about that letter is wrong-

A madman is a very dangerous thing.

When I know what the murderer is like, I shall be able to find out who he is.

appears Strange was a whale on dominoes and to his surprise Cust was pretty hot stuff too. Queer game, dominoes. People go mad about it. They’ll play for hours. That’s what Strange and Cust did apparently. Cust wanted to go to bed but Strange wouldn’t hear of it—swore they’d keep it up until midnight at least. And that’s what they did do.

You’re a man milliner, Poirot. I never notice what people have on.” “You should join a nudist colony.” As

Speech, so a wise old Frenchman said to me once, is an invention of man’s to prevent him from thinking.

It's often when you're talking over things that you seem to see your way clear. Your mind gets made up for you sometimes without your knowing how it's happened. Talking leads to a lot of things one way or another.

The human and personal element can never be ignored.