The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to seekers after it.

It is completely unimportant. That is why it is so interesting.

You should employ your little grey cells

It is odd how, when you have a secret belief of your own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury of denial.

I have no pity for myself either. So let it be Veronal. But I wish Hercule Poirot had never retired from work and come here to grow vegetable marrows.

Women observe subconsciously a thousand little details, without knowing that they are doing so. Their subconscious mind adds these little things together—and they call the result intuition.

The things young women read nowadays and profess to enjoy positively frighten me.

Oh! money! All the troubles in the world can be put down to money—or the lack of it.

Fortunately words, ingeniously used, will serve to mask the ugliness of naked facts.

I demand of you a thousand pardons, monsieur. I am without defence. For some months now I cultivate the marrows. This morning suddenly I enrage myself with these marrows. I send them to promenade themselves - alas! not only mentally but physically. I seize the biggest. I hurl him over the wall. Monsieur, I am ashamed. I prostrate myself.

It is completely unimportant,” said Poirot. “That is why it is so interesting,” he added softly.

Things are simple as a rule

Les femmes,” generalized Poirot. “They are marvellous! They invent haphazard—and by miracle they are right. Not that it is that, really. Women observe subconsciously a thousand little details, without knowing that they are doing so. Their subconscious mind adds these little things together—and they call the result intuition.

Every new development that arises is like the shake you give to a kaleidoscope—the thing changes entirely in aspect.

always bear in mind that the person who speaks may be lying

One can press a man as far as one likes—but with a woman one must not press too far. For a woman has at heart a great desire to speak the truth. How many husbands who have deceived their wives go comfortably to their graves, carrying their secret with them! How many wives who have deceived their husbands wreck their lives by throwing the fact in those same husbands’ teeth! They have been pressed too far. In a reckless moment (which they will afterwards regret, bien entendu) they fling safety to the winds and turn at bay, proclaiming the truth with great momentary satisfaction to themselves.

Now there has been a rearrangement of the kaleidoscope.

I felt a distinct pleasure in passing on my own discomfiture.

My sister continued: 'What did she die of? Heart failure?' 'Didn't the milkman tell you that?' I inquired sarcastically. Sarcasm is wasted on Caroline. She takes it seriously and answers accordingly. 'He didn't know,' she explained.

It is well at any price to have peace in the home.

Women, in my experience, if they once reach the determination to commit suicide, usually wish to reveal the state of mind that led to the fatal action. They covet the limelight.

You seem to know a hell of a lot about everything, you little foreign cock duck.

One must always proceed with method. I made an error of judgment asking you that question. Toeach man his own knowledge. You could tell me the details of the patient's physical appearance- nothing there would escape you. If I wanted information about the papers on the desk, Mr. Raymond would have noticed anything there was to see. To find out about the fire, I must ask the man whose business is to observe such things. - Detective Hercule Poirot to Doctor Sheppard

The motto of the mongoose family, so Mr Kipling tells us, is: 'Go and find out.' If Caroline ever adopts a crest, I should certainly suggest a mongoose rampant. One might omit the first part of the motto. Caroline can do any amount of finding out by sitting placidly at home.

The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it.

There's no doubt about what the man's profession has been. He's a retired hairdresser. Look at that moustache of his.

Remorse,” she said, with great gusto. “Remorse?