It Is A Capital Mistake To Theorize

His Love Of Danger, His Intense Appreciation Of The Drama Of An Adventure--all The More Intense For Being Held Tightly In--his Consistent View That Every Peril In Life Is A Form Of Sport, A Fierce Game Betwixt You And Fate, With Death As A Forfeit, Made Him A Wonderful Companion At Such Hours.

Exactly. She Does Not Shine As A Wife Even In Her Own Account Of What Occurred. I Am Not A Whole-souled Admirer Of Womankind, As You Are Aware, Watson, But My Experience Of Life Has Taught Me That There Are Few Wives Having Any Regard For Their Husbands Who Would Let Any Man's Spoken Word Stand Between Them And That Husband's Dead Body. Should I Ever Marry, Watson, I Should Hope To Inspire My Wife With Some Feeling Which Would Prevent Her From Being Walked Off By A Housekeeper When My Corpse Was Lying Within A Few Yards Of Her.

It Is Horrible, Yet Fascinating, This Struggle Between A Set Purpose And An Utterly Exhausted Frame.

There Was Something Awesome In The Thought Of The Solitary Mortal Standing By The Open Window And Summoning In From The Gloom Outside The Spirits Of The Nether World.

I Trust That Age Doth Not Wither Nor Custom Stale My Infinite Variety.