“My friend's wiry arms were around me and he was leading me to the chair. "You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake say that you're not hurt!" It was worth a wound -it was worth many wounds- to know the… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share
Sherlock Holmes: She is a lovely woman, Watson, with a face that a man might die for. Dr. John Watson: A face a man… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“Perchance you shall, fair sir," said Nigel, "for all that I have seen of you fills me with this desire to go further with… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“Take a pinch of snuff, doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in your example.” — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“The cheese-mites asked how the cheese got there, And warmly debated the matter; The Orthodox said that it came from the air, And the… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire. A fool always finds a greater fool to admire him.” — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“My friend's wiry arms were around me and he was leading me to the chair. "You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake say that you're not hurt!" It was worth a wound -it was worth many wounds- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay beyond that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment,… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share
“Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson," said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. "It was a ship which is associated… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share
“Some of you rich men have to be taught that all the world cannot be bribed into condoning your offences.\” — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share Image
“The Frenchman sat up with that strange energy which comes often as the harbinger of death. "(...) This I tell you - I, Raoul de la Roche Pierre de Bras, dying upon the field of honour. And now kiss me, sweet friend, and lay me back, for the mists closes round me and I am gone!" With tender hands the… — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Copy Share
