At The Small Table, Sitting Very Upright,

I Did Not Deceive You, Mon Ami. At Most, I Permitted You To Deceive Yourself.

Poirot Said Placidly, “one Does Not, You Know, Employ Merely The Muscles. I Do Not Need To Bend And Measure The Footprints And Pick Up The Cigarette Ends And Examine The Bent Blades Of Grass. It Is Enough For Me To Sit Back In My Chair And Think. It Is This – ” He Tapped His Egg-shaped Head – “this, That Functions!

To Put It Quite Crudely ... The Poor Don't Really Know How The Rich Live, And The Rich Don't Know How The Poor Live, And To Find Out Is Really Enchanting To Both Of Them.

You Cannot Mix Up Sentiment And Reason.

I'm Afraid Of Death... Yes, But That Doesn't Stop Death Coming.