“Max and the driver, pulling out steel mats, spades, and various other things from the car, endeavoured to free us, but with no success. Hour succeeded hour. It was still ragingly hot. I lay down in the shelter of the… — Agatha Christie Copy Share Image
One must accept the fact that we have only one companion in this world, a companion who accompanies us from the cradle to the… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“I like to see an angry Englishman," said Poirot. "They are very amusing. The more emotional they feel the less command they have of… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“Now, as I expect you know, there is nothing more cruel than talk, and there is nothing more difficult to combat. When people say… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“A child says ‘Thank God for my good dinner’. What can I say at seventy-five? ‘Thank God for my good life, and for all… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“I'm afraid I always find Shakespeare terribly dreary. All those long scenes where everybody is drunk and it's supposed to be funny.” — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“Either her dream had taken a very odd turn or else - or else Mary had really rushed into the room and had said… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“Every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend,” observed Poirot philosophically. “You cannot mix up sentiment and reason.” — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“Well, of course, it was not any of my business but you get very queer glimpses of life sometimes, and you can't help speculating… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“Mr. Satterthwaite looked cheered. Suddenly an idea struck him. His jaw fell. "My goodness," he cried, "I've only just realized it! That rascal, with… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“The old gentleman refuses to have the telephone which he regards as a device of the devil, and on a par with radio, television,… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“That’s how they do it, these girls! Othello charmed Desdemona by telling her stories, but, oh, didn’t Desdemona charm Othello by the way she… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
It is ridiculous to set a detective story in New York City. New York City is itself a detective story. — Agatha Christie Copy Share
“Poirot, watching him, felt suddenly a doubt--an uncomfortable twinge. Was there, here, something that he had missed? Some richness of the spirit? Sadness crept… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
Then there are some minor points that strike me as suggestive - for instance, the position of Mrs. Hubbard's sponge bag, the name of… — Agatha Christie Copy Share
