They are so busy knocking that they do not notice that the door is open! - Agatha Christie

I felt that the murderer was in the room. Sitting with us — listening. one of us

Men are made fools by the gleaming limbs of women, and, lo, in a minute they are become discolored carnelians. A trifle, a little, the likeness of a dream. And death comes as the end.

I was thinking, that when my time comes, I should be sorry if the only plea I had to offer was that of justice. Because it might mean that only justice would be meted out to me.