In a sense, all murderers are lunatics. Killing is a not a sane reaction to the circumstances of life. — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“When he had disconnected the pump and tested the tyre with thumb and forefinger, he stood the bicycle upright against the side of the… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
Such an error, one finds, to do things for the best. They usually seem to be such unpleasant things. — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“She wants to see the children before she dies,” pronounced his wife. “Poor thing. I expect she’s very lonely and unhappy right out there… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
I am a congenital liar. Some Highlanders are. To my ancestors, the truth was so sacred as to be unusable. — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“Richard, having modestly but effectually scored the minimum number for the purpose, was in process of deciding whether a green or a canary-coloured Fluffy… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“replaced the cigarette, took a plate of kidneys and bacon from the maid, and accepted a piece of bread from a plate proffered by… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“What about Kost, sir? He’s a foreigner, you know.” “Yes,” said the inspector, allowing to pass unchallenged the usual English implication that foreigners are… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“Look here, Mrs. Bradley," he said. "I feel a pretty frightful bounder telling you all this about the poor girl, but I think some… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
In a sense, all murderers are lunatics. Killing is a not a sane reaction to the circumstances of life. — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“I am bubbled, I’m bubbled, O how I am troubled! Bamboozled and bit, my distresses are doubled!” John Gay” — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
“Well,” continued Hilary, “it felt like somebody’s face! You know when you play water polo, and you push a chap’s face with your foot—”… — Gladys Mitchell Copy Share Image
