The World Is Big Enough For Us.

Life, My Dear Watson, Is Infinitely Stranger Than Fiction; Stranger Than Anything Which The Mind Of Man Could Invent. We Could Not Conceive The Things That Are Merely Commonplace To Existence. If We Could Hover Over This Great City, Remove The Roofs, And Peep In At The Things Going On, It Would Make All Fiction, With Its Conventionalities And Foreseen Conclusions Flat, Stale And Unprofitable.

Excellent!" I Cried. "elementary," Said He.

Let Me See. What Are My Other Shortcomings?

I Am The Most Incurably Lazy Devil That Ever Stood In Shoe Leather.

A Man With So Large A Brain Must Have Something In It.