A Study in Scarlet

by Arthur Conan Doyle

He is a little queer in his ideas—an enthusiast in some branches of science. As far as I know he is a decent fellow enough."

"Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes—it approaches to cold-bloodedness.

I get in the dumps at times, and don't open my mouth for days on end. You must not think I am sulky when I do that. Just let me alone, and I'll soon be right.

I might have suspected him of being addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperance and cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.

"I consider that a man's brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose.

It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones."

"It is a capital mistake to theorize before you have all the evidence. It biases the judgment."

You may be very smart and clever, but the old hound is the best, when all is said and done."

"They say that genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains," he remarked with a smile. "It's a very bad definition, but it does apply to detective work."

There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.

"To a great mind, nothing is little,"

"What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence," returned my companion, bitterly. "The question is, what can you make people believe that you have done.