Agatha Christie

She was awarded the CBE in the 1956 Queens New Year Honours List and the DBE (Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire) in the 1971 Queens New Year Honours List for her services to literature.

Wrote several romance novels under the pseudonym Mary Westmacott.

Gave birth to a daughter, Rosalind, in 1919.

Disappeared for several days in 1926. Disappearance remains unexplained.

Interred at Cholsey Churchyard, Cholsey, Oxfordshire, England, UK.

On Saturday April 12th, 1958, her play The Mousetrap, which opened in London on November 25, 1952, became the longest running production of any kind in the history of British Theatre, beating out the five-and-a-half years of Chu Chin Chow.

She worked at a chemists shop between 1915 and 1918 in the seaside resort of Torquay, England.

Her father was from the United States, and her mother was English.

Over two billion copies of her books have been sold worldwide. Her book sales are surpassed only by the Bible and by William Shakespeare. She is the best-selling author of all time.

First novel, The Mysterious Affair at Styles , was also the first to feature her eccentric Belgian detective Hercule Poirot.

Last published novel, Sleeping Murder , featured her other world-famous sleuth, the shrewdly inquisitive Miss Jane Marple.

Her work has been translated into more than a hundred languages.

According to her grandson Mathew Prichard , who runs the Agatha Christie estate, she was very keen on using new types of media to help reach fans in new ways. He said this in April 2004 when it was announced that five of her books would be turned into computer games.

Her second husband, Max Mallowan, was an archaeologist, and she chronicled her travels with him in the Middle East in her 1946 book "Come, Tell Me How You Live."

Her novel, And Then There Were None, is also published as Ten Little Indians and is the #1 bestseller.

Although it was not the last novel she published in her lifetime, the last novel that Agatha Christie wrote was Postern of Fate. It featured her re-occurring characters Tommy and Tuppence, and marks their final appearance in a novel.

The last two novels published were Curtain (chronicling Hercule Poirots last case) and Sleeping Murder (the last Miss Marple novel). She wrote both books in the 1940s, and then locked them in a safe deposit box. It is stated in her biography, that she wrote the two final cases for Marple and Poirot early, in case she was killed in WWII. This way fans would have closure concerning her characters fates.

Wrote six romance novels under the pseudonym Mary Westmacott.

She is mentioned in "Zwei Mnner am Herd" {Diebe der Liebe (#2.5)} .

She wrote Hercule Poirots Christmas for her godson James, (an avid fan of her books)after he complained that her murders were getting too refined. He wanted a good solid murder, with lots of blood, and the body positioned in such a way that it couldnt be anything but murder. There is a dedication to him in the book.

Her first husbands brother Campbell Christie was also a writer.

She was played by Vanessa Redgrave in Agatha . Redgrave previously played Mary Debenham in Murder on the Orient Express , an adaptation of her 1934 novel of the same name.

The titles of Agatha Christies works are often allusions to phrases or lines found in works by other writers. "Sad Cypress" derives from a line in "Twelfth Night" by William Shakespeare. "Evil Under the Sun" derives from a phrase in "Ecclesiastes", an anonymous work from the 3rd century BC. "The Moving Finger" derives from a phrase in the poetry collection "Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam" by translator Edward FitzGerald. "Absent in the Spring" derives from a line in "Sonnet 98" by William Shakespeare. "Taken at the Flood" derives from a phrase in "Julius Caesar" by William Shakespeare. "The Rose and the Yew Tree" derives from a phrase used in "Four Quartets" by T. S. Eliot. "The Mirror Crackd from Side to Side" derives from a phrase in "The Lady of Shalott" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. "By the Pricking of My Thumbs" derives from a phrase used in "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare. "Postern of Fate" derives from a line in "Gates of Damascus" by James Elroy Flecker.

Due to being married to archaeologist Max Mallowan, Agatha Christie developed an interest in archaeology herself. She joined him in excavations in Iraq and Syria, and received some training in tasks such as archaeological restoration and reconstructing pottery.

Despite her reputation as a crime novelist, Agatha Christies literary output actually includes works in several genres. The "Tommy and Tuppence" series mostly consists of spy fiction, as do several of her one-shot novels. "The Mysterious Mr Quin" collection includes the supernatural figure of Mr. Harley Quin (Harlequin) and several fantasy and horror elements. "The Hound of Death" short story collection includes tales of horror and magic. "Death Comes as the End" is a historical novel set in Ancient Egypt, and "Star Over Bethlehem" is a collection of religiously-themed stories featuring Jesus, Mary, Satan, etc.

Ariadne Oliver, a major character in several novels by Christie, is a self-caricature of Agatha Christie. She is a mystery novelist with a strong belief in feminine intuition, has a vast familiarity with literary tropes, and several comical eccentricities.

Despite Agatha Christie intending "Sleeping Murder: Miss Marples Last Case" to be the finale to the career of her long-running character Miss Jane Marple, there is nothing final about the fate of the character. Marple survives the tale and there are no apparent changes in her life.

Agatha Christie created several series protagonists during her writing career, but her best known protagonist was Hercule Poirot. He appeared in 33 novels, one theatrical play, and more than 50 short stories He first appeared in "The Mysterious Affair at Styles" and last appeared in "Curtain: Poirots Last Case" which famously features his death.

While her fans loved Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie herself was increasingly fed up with her creation. Late in her career, she described him as "an egocentric creep".

While it is unclear whether Agatha Christie intended it this way, most of her long-running series and stand-alone novels seem to take place in a shared universe. She wrote crossover novels such as "Three Act Tragedy" and "Cards on the Table" where major characters from various series meet and interact. But Christie also had the habit of reusing various supporting and/or minor characters, which seem to migrate from series to series.

Her influence even extended to science fiction and her murder mysteries influenced three stories from the television series "Doctor Who" : "Doctor Who" {The Robots of Death: Part One (#14.17)} , "Doctor Who" {Black Orchid: Part One (#19.17)} and "Doctor Who" {The Trial of a Time Lord: Part Nine (#23.9)} . She was later portrayed on screen in the story "Doctor Who" {The Unicorn and the Wasp (#4.7)} .

An archaelogist is the best husband a women can have. The older she gets,the more interested he is in her.

Where large sums of money are concerned, it is advisable to trust,nobody.

Curious things, habits. People themselves never know they had them.

One is left with the horrible feeling now that war settles nothing; that,to win a war is as disastrous as to lose one.

It is ridiculous to set a detective story in New York City. New York,City is itself a detective story.

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

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked,with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just,to be alive is a grand thing.

I specialize in murders of quiet, domestic interest.

It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking,ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.

On childhood: One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life,is to have a happy childhood.

On experience: We are all the same people as we were at three, six, ten,or twenty years old. More noticeably so, perhaps, at six or seven,because we were not pretending so much then.

It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow; but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

To every problem, there is a most simple solution.

Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking. ""An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it.

In the midst of life, we are in death.

Death, mademoiselle, unfortunately creates a prejudice. A prejudice in favour of the deceased. I heard what you said just now to my friend Hastings. ‘A nice bright girl with no men friends. ’ You said that in mockery of the newspapers. And it is very true—when a young girl is dead, that is the kind of thing that is said. She was bright. She was happy. She was sweet-tempered. She had not a care in the world. She had no undesirable acquaintances. There is a great charity always to the dead. Do you know what I should like this minute? I should like to find someone who knew Elizabeth Barnard and who does not know she is dead! Then, perhaps, I should hear what is useful to me—the truth.

Death was for-the other people.

And yet," said Poirot, "suppose an accident-""Ah, no, my friend-""From your point of view it would be regrettable, I agree. But nevertheless let us just for one moment suppose it. Then, perhaps, all these here are linked together - by death.

One knows so little. When one knows more it is too late.

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-,I suppose it is because nearly all children go to school nowadays and have things arranged for them that they seem so forlornly unable to produce their own ideas.

Use that fluff of yours you call a brain.

It is clear that the books owned the shop rather than the other way about. Everywhere they had run wild and taken possession of their habitat, breeding and multiplying, and clearly lacking any strong hand to keep them down.

One little Indian left all alone, he went out and hanged himself and then there were none.

A statesman in these days has a difficult task. He has to pursue the policy he deems advantageous to his country, but he has at the same time to recognize the force of popular feeling. Popular feeling is very often sentimental, muddleheaded, and eminently unsound, but it cannot be disregarded for all that.

E: When one has at last reached freedom, can one even contemplate going back?HC: But if it is not possible to go back, or to choose to go back, then it is not freedom!~Ericsson; Hilary Craven,I often wonder why the whole world is so prone to generalise. Generalisations are seldom if ever true and are usually utterly inaccurate.

Oh! Do not excite yourself. Shall I say that he interested me because he was trying to grow a mustache and as yet the result is poor. " Poirot stroked his own magnificent mustache tenderly. "It is an art," he murmured, "the growing of the mustache! I have sympathy for all who attempt it.

I will only ask you to believe one thing. I have faith in myself. I believe that I am the man to guide England through the days of crisis that I see coming. If I did not honestly believe that I am needed by my country to steer the ship of state, I would not have done what I have done--made the best of both worlds--saved myself from disaster by a clever trick. 'My lord, if you could not make the best of both worlds, you could not be a politician.

Women were very queer. Unexpectedly cruel and unexpectedly kind.

I am pointing to you that under these conditions--mental strain, physical malaise--it is highly probable that dislikes that were before merely mild and disagreements that were trivial might suddenly assume a more serious note. The result of pretending to be a more amiable, a more forgiving, a more high-minded person than one really is, has sooner or later the effect of causing one to behave as a more disagreeable, a more ruthless and an altogether more unpleasant person than is actually the case! If you dam the stream of natural behavior, mon ami, sooner or later the dam bursts and cataclysm occurs.

It was due to his tact, to his judgment, to his sympathetic manipulation of human beings that the atmosphere had always been such a happy one. . . If there was a change, therefore, the change must be due to the man at the top.

In my opinion, the state of mind of a community is always directly due to the influence of the man at the top.

The evidence of history is against you. The contemporary historian never writes such a true history as the historian of a later generation. It is a question of getting the true perspective, of seeing things in proportion.

Take the Pyramids. Great blocks of useless masonry, put up to minister to the egoism of a despotic bloated king. Think of the sweated masses who toiled to build them and died doing it. It makes me sick to think of the suffering and torture they represent. "Mrs. Allerton said cheerfully: "You’d rather have no Pyramids, no Parthenon, no beautiful tombs or temples—just the solid satisfaction of knowing that people got three meals a day and died in their beds. "The young man directed his scowl in her direction. "I think human beings matter more than stones.

But it is not always the people who say most who do most.

An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets, the more interested he is in her.

Women can accept the fact that a man is a rotter, a swindler, a drug taker, a confirmed liar, and a general swine, without batting an eyelash, and without its impairing their affection for the brute in the least. Women are wonderful realists.

My flute, M. Poirot, is my oldest companion. When everything else fails, music remains.

This was genius at close quarters, and genius had that something above normal in it that was a great strain upon the ordinary mind and feeling. All five were different from each other, yet each had that curious quality of burning intensity, the single-mindedness of purpose that made such a terrifying impression. She did not know whether it were a quality of brain or rather a quality of outlook, of intensity. But each of them, she thought, was in his or her way a passionate idealist.

Why harrow oneself by looking on the worst side?. . . Because it is sometimes necessary.

The popular view that a child forgets easily is not an accurate one. Many people go right through life in the grip of an idea which has been impressed on them in very tender years.

More children suffer from interference than from noninterference.

At the small table, sitting very upright, was one of the ugliest old ladies he had ever seen. It was an ugliness of distinction - it fascinated rather than repelled.

Sensationalism dies quickly, fear is long-lived.

What a queer topsy turvy world it was. It used to be the man who went to the wars, the woman who stayed at home. But here the positions were reversed.

But I know human nature, my friend, and I tell you that, suddenly confronted with the possibility of being tried for murder, the most innocent person will lose his head and do the most absurd things.

I am not one to rely upon the expert procedure. It is the psychology I seek, not the fingerprint or the cigarette ash.

To marry and have children, that is the common lot of women. Only one woman in a hundred--more, in a thousand, can make for herself a name and position as you have done.

All Egypt is obsessed with death! And do you know why, Renisenb? Because we have eyes in our bodies, but none in our minds. We cannot conceive of a life other than this one - of a life after death. We can visualize only a continuation of what we know. We have no real belief in a God.

The two words expressed volumes.

What can I say at seventy-five? "Thank God for my good life,and for all the love that has been given to me.

I mean that success has come early. And that is dangerous. Always dangerous.

… one can never go back, that one should not ever try to go back – that the essence of life is going forward. Life is really a One Way Street.

Where large sums of money are concerned, it is advisable to trust nobody.

The longer the time that has elapsed, the more things fall into proportion. One sees them in their true relationship to one another.

Besides a burial service is rather lovely. Makes you feel uplifted, the grief is real. It makes you feel awful but it does something to you. I mean, it works it out like perspiration.

Somehow, the more I get older, and the more I see of people and sadness and illness and everything, the sorrier I get for everyone.

Murder can sometimes seem justified, but it is murder all the same. You are truthful and clear-minded--face the truth, mademoiselle! Your friend died in the last resort, because she had not the courage to live. We may sympathize with her. We may pity her. But the fact remains--the act was hers--not another.

Nobody knows what another person is thinking. They may imagine they do, but they are nearly always wrong.

A man in drink can be like a ravening wolf.

A man in love is a sorry spectacle.

Young men are sadly degenerate nowadays.

Business is based on the well-known principle of supply and demand. You want something, the other man has it. The only thing left to settle is the price.

One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is to have a happy childhood.

What an absurdity to go and bury oneself in South America, where they are always having revolutions.

A man travels fastest who travels alone.

We do all these things when we are young. The poise, the savoir faire, it comes later.

The things she said seemed to have very little relation to the last thing she had said a minute before. She was the sort of person, Tommy thought, who might know a great deal more than she chose to reveal.

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.

In an English village, you turn over a stone and have no idea what will crawl out. Miss Marple,The man who came into the room did not look as though his name was, or could have ever been, Robinson. It might have been Demetrius, or Isaacstein, or Perenna - though not one or the other in particular. He was not definitely Jewish, nor definitely Greek nor Portugese nor Spanish, nor South American. What did seem highly unlikely was that he was an Englishman called Robinson.

Authors were shy, unsociable creatures, atoning for their lack of social aptitude by inventing their own companions and conversations.

In fact-Dr. Sheppard!,You do think you know about everything," said her husband. I do," said Tuppence.

From now on, it is our task to suspect each and everyone amongst us. Forewarned is forearmed. Take no risks and be alert to danger. That is all.

Once I went professionally to an archaeological expedition- and I learnt something there. In the course of an excavation, when something comes up out of the ground, evEryThing is cleared away very carefully all around it. You take away the loose earth, and you scare here and there with a knife until finally your object is there, all alone, ready to be drawn and photographed with no extraneous matter confusing it. That is what I have been seeking TO do- clear away the extraneous matter so that we can see the truth-the naked shining truth.

When the sun shines you cannot see the moon," he said. "But when the sun is gone ah,when the sun is gone.

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.

When the sea goes down, there will come from the mainland boats and men. And they will find ten dead bodies and an unsolved problem on Indian Island.

the elephant can remember.

I did not deceive you, mon ami. At most, I permitted you to deceive yourself.

He dragged me back - just in time. A tree had crashed down on to the side walk, just missing us. Poirot stared at it, pale and upset. "It was a near thing that! But clumsy, all the same - for I had no suspicion - at least hardly any suspicion. Yes, but for my quick eyes, the eyes of a cat, Hercule Poirot might now be crushed out of existence - a terrible calamity for the world. And you, too, mon ami - though that would not be such a national catastrophe. " "Thank you," I said coldly.

Ah, but you must have a Christmas uncomplicated by murder.

There was only one thing about his own appearance which really pleased Hercule Poirot, and that was the profusion of his moustaches, and the way they responded to grooming and treatment and trimming. They were magnificent. He knew of nobody else who had any moustache half as good.

Evil never goes unpunished, Monsieur. But the punishment is sometimes secret.

There is no such thing as a plain fact of murder. Murder springs, nine times out of ten, out of the character and circumstances of the murdered person. Because the victim was the kind of person he or she was, therefore was he or she murdered! Until we can understand fully and completely exactly what kind of a person [she] was, we shall not be able to see clearly exactly the kind of person who murdered her. From that spring the necessity of our questions.

I mean that if you are not absolutely sure of a thing, it is so difficult to commit yourself to a definite course of action.

Youth is a failing only tooeasily outgrown.

I like to see an angry Englishman," said Poirot. "They are very amusing. The more emotional they feel the less command they have of language.

A man in love is an awful sight.

A meal should always lie lightly on the estomac," said Poirot. "It should not be so heavy as to paralyze thought.

The popular idea that a child forgets easily is not an accurate one. Many people go right through life in the grip of an idea which has been impressed on them in very tender years.

Sixty-nine was an interesting age--an age of infinite possibilities--an age when at last the experience of a lifetime was beginning to tell. But to feel old--that was different, a tired, discouraged state of mind when one was inclined to ask oneself depressing questions. What was he after all? A little dried-up elderly man, with neither chick nor child, with no human belongings, only a valuable Art collection which seemed at the moment strangely unsatisfying. No one to care whether he lived or died. . .

I think I said that every generation had its weaklings--that that was one of the penalties of greatness--but that their failings were seldom remembered by posterity.

When you find that people are not telling you the truth---look out!,Discussions of death and such matters do more to unlock the human tongue than any other subject.

When engaged in eating, the brain should be the servant of the stomach.

Mr Rycroft said nothing. It was so difficult not to say the wrong thing to Captain Wyatt that it was usually safer not to reply at all.

Well, people are like that too. THey create a false door - to deceive. If they are conscious of weakness, of inefficiency, they make an imposing door of self-assertion, of bluster, of overwhelming authority - and, after a time, they get to believe in it themselves. They think, and everybody thinks, that they are like that. But behind that door, Renisenb, is bare rock. . . And so when reality comes and touches them with the feather of truth - their true self reasserts itself.

Those words of hers had meant nothing - you could not dismiss [however] a human being so easily.

Nature repeats herself more than one would imagine. The sea has infinitely more variety.

She looked at them with shining eyes. Her chin went up. She said: "You regard it as impossible that a sinner should be struck down by the wrath of God! I do not!" The judge stroked his chin. He murmured in a slightly ironic voice: "My dear lady, in my experience of ill-doing, Providence leaves the work of conviction and chastisement to us mortals-and the process is often fraught with difficulties. There are no short cuts.

Too much mercy. . . often resulted in further crimes which were fatal to innocent victims who need not have been victims if justice had been put first and mercy second.

You are, madame, so perfectly armoured, so completely sure of yourself. 'Now I wonder, if I am to take that as a compliment?'It is, perhaps, a warning--not to treat life with arrogance.

He has neither what I call the outward vision (seeing details all around you what is called an observant person) nor the inner vision--concentration, the focusing of the mind on one object. He has a purposefully limited vision. He sees only what blends and harmonises with the bent of his mind.

I suppose, like most young people nowadays, boredom is what you dread most in the world, and yet, I can assure you, there are worse things.

You are young still. Naturally, one tries this, that and the other, but what one eventually settles down into is the life one prefers.

And they had no idea that they and many others were automatically pronounced deadly dull solely on that account. Only by the young of course, but then, they would have thought indulgently, young people knew nothing about life. Poor dears, they were always worrying about examinations, or their sex life, or buying some extraordinary clothes, or doing some extraordinary things to their hair to make them more noticeable.

There is something about the defencelessness of youth that moves me to tears. Youth is so vulnerable. It is so ruthless--so sure. So generous and so demanding.

It is the courage, the insistence, the ruthless force of youth.

Maybe it is because I am an old man, but I find, M. Poirot, that there is something about the defenselessness of youth that moves me to tears. Youth is so vulnerable. It is so ruthless - so sure. So generous and so demanding.

Who was there to guard youth from pain and death - youth who could not, who had never been able to, guard itself? Did they know too little? Or was it that they knew too much, and therefore thought they knew it all?,Sitting here, literally amongst the dead, reckoning up gains and losses, casting accounts, I have come to see gains that cannot be reckoned in terms of wealth, and losses that are more damaging than loss of a crop. . . I look at the River and I see the lifeblood of Egypt that has existed before we lived and that will exist after we die. . . Life and death, Renisenb, are not of such great account.

It has been my experience, that women possess little or no pride where love affairs are concerned. Pride is a quality often on their lips, but not apparent in their actions.

Thought is yours only. Nobody can alter or influence the use you mean to make of it.

The great thing in these cases is to keep an absolutely open mind. Most crimes, you see, are so absurdly simple.

I think people more often kill those they love than those they hate. Possible because only the people you love can really make life unendurable to you.

If Hori were to die, I should not forget! Hori is a song in my heart for ever. . . That means-that there is no more death. . .

I like a good detective story," he said.  "But, you know, they begin in the wrong place! They begin with the murder.  But the murder is the end.  The  story begins long before that—years before sometimes with all the causes and events that bring certain people to a certain place at a certain time on a certain day.

It is romantic, yes,’ agreed Hercule Poirot. ‘It is peaceful. The sun shines. The sea is blue. But you forget, Miss Brewster, there is evil everywhere under the sun’.

A susceptible child is capable of great hero worship, and a young mind can easily be obsessed by an idea which persists into adult life.

When he passed me in the restaurant," he said at last, "I had a curious impression. It was as though a wild animal – an animal savage, but savage! you understand – had passed me by. ""And yet he looked altogether of the most respectable. ""Précisément! The body – the cage – is everything of the most respectable – but through the bars, the wild animal looks out. ""You are fanciful, mon vieux," said M. Bouc. "It may be so. But I could not rid myself of the impression that evil had passed me by very close. " (1. 2. 52-56),The eye is diverted from the real business, it is caught by the spectacular action that means nothing--nothing at all.

The law. Lady Frances, is an uncertain animal. It has twists and turns that surprise the non-legal mind.

Wwhat the hell? Weve all got to die sometime!,Living alone, with no one to consult or talk to, one might easily become melodramatic, and imagine things which had no foundation on fact.

Plots come to me at such odd moments, when I am walking along the street, or examining a hat shop…suddenly a splendid idea comes into my head.

That was what murder was-as easy as that!But afterwards you went on remembering. . .

People more often kill those they love than those they hate. Possibly because only the people you love can really make life unendurable to you.

I should have known when I first saw that picture. For it is a very remarkable picture. It is the picture of a murderess painted by her victim-it is the picture of a girl watching her lover dies.

Don’t go,” said Cedric. “Murder has made you practically one of the family.

Where there is murder, anything can happen.

I believe at least in one of the chief tenets of the Christian faith--contentment with a lowly place. I am a doctor and I know that ambition--the desire to succeed--to have power--leads to most ills of the human soul. If the desire is realized it leads to arrogance, violence and final satiety; and if it is denied--ah! if it is denied--let all the asylums for the insane rise up and give their testimony! The are filled with human beings who were unable to face being mediocre, insignificant, ineffective and who therefore created for themselves ways of escape from reality so to be shut off from life itself forever.

You say your life is your own. But can you dare to ignore the chance that you are taking part in a gigantic drama under the orders of a divine Producer? Your cue may not come till the end of the play--it may be totally unimportant, a mere walking-on part, but upon it may hang the issues of the play if you do not give the cue to another player. The whole edifice may crumple. You as you, may not matter to anyone in the world, but you as a person in a particular place may matter unimaginably.

Love can be a very frightening thing. ”“That is why most great love stories are tragedies.

I loved her- I always loved her- no matter what she was-I wanted her safe- not shut up- a prisoner for life, eating her heart out. And we did keep her safe- for many years" Phillip Stark,Everything that has existed, lingers in the Eternity.

One of the saddest things in life, is the things one remembers.

All life is a jest, Imhotep - and it is death who laughs last. Do you not hear it at every feast? Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you die.

Everything must be taken into account. If the fact will not fit the theory---let the theory go.

. . . one may live in a big house and yet have no comfort.

In a well-balanced, reasoning mind there is no such thing as an intuition - an inspired guess! You can guess, of course - and a guess is either right or wrong. If it is right you can call it an intuition. If it is wrong you usually do not speak of it again. But what is often called an intuition is really impression based on logical deduction or experience. When an expert feels that there is something wrong about a picture or a piece of furniture or the signature on a cheque he is really basing that feeling on a host of a small signs and details. He has no need to go into them minutely - his experience obviates that - the net result is the definite impression that something is wrong. But it is not a guess, it is an impression based on experience.

How true is the saying that man was forced to invent work in order to escape the strain of having to think.

You are not the happy, unthinking child you have always appeared to be, accepting everything at its face value. You are not just one of the women of the household. You are Renisenb who wants to think for herself, who wonders about other people.

Whether he acted rightly or not, I have never been sure. It was the future of a child that was at stake. A child, he felt, ought to be given the benefit of a doubt.

I help those who can help themselves.

Eh bien, then, you are crazy, or appear crazy or you think you are crazy, and possibly you may be crazy.

But when you say crazy, that describes very well what the general appearance may be to ordinary, everyday people.

That is the word of reality - need.

You know, Emily was a selfish old woman in her way. She was very generous, but she always wanted a return. She never let people forget what she had done for them - and, that way she missed love.

In moments of great stress, the mind focuses itself upon some quite unimportant matter which is remembered long afterwards with the utmost fidelity, driven in, as it were, by the mental stress of the moment. It may be some quite irrelevant detail, like the pattern of a wallpaper, but it will never be forgotten.

For somewhere," said Poirot to himself, indulging in an absolute riot of mixed metaphors, "there is in the hay a needle, and among the sleeping dogs there is one on whom I shall put my foot, and by shooting the arrows into the air, one will come down and hit a glass house!,To cry at will is not an easy accomplishment.

Sloppy crying had never helped anyone yet.

To rush into explanations is always a sign of weakness.

An appreciative listener is always stimulating.

Bad habit, lunch. A banana and a water biscuit is all any sane healthy man should need in the middle of the day.

The innocent must not suffer.

But what really happens after you are dead - that is what I want to know?I cannot tell you Renisenb. You should ask a priest these questions. He would just give me the usual answers. I want to know. We shall none of us know until we are dead ourselves.

Popular feeling is very often sentimental, muddle-headed, and eminently unsound, but it cannot be disregarded for all that.

An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have the older she gets the more interested he is in her.

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairingly acutely miserable racked with sorrow but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairingly acutely miserable racked with sorrow but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

The human mind prefers to be spoonfed with the thoughts of others but deprived of such nourishment it will reluctantly begin to think for itself- and such thinking remember is original thinking and may have valuable results.

We are the same people as we were at three six ten or twenty years old. More noticeably so perhaps at six or seven because we were not pretending so much then.

Truth however bitter can be accepted and woven into a design for living.

Mon cher docteur! Do you not think I know the female mentality? The village gossip, it is based always, always on the relations of the sexes. If a man poisons his wife in order to travel to the North Pole or to enjoy the peace of a bachelor existence—it would not interest his fellow-villagers for a minute!,. . . go down to the country, take a house, get interested in local politics, in local scandal, in village gossip. Take an inquisitive and violent interest in your neighbours.

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

An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her.

These little grey cells. It is up to them.

I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood. .