The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

by Robert Louis Stevenson

“I feel very strongly about putting questions; it partakes too much of the style of the day of judgment. You start a question, and it’s like starting a stone. You sit quietly on the top of a hill; and away the stone goes, starting others; and presently some bland old bird (the last you would have thought of) is knocked on the head in his own back garden and the family have to change their name. No sir, I make it a rule of mine: the more it looks like Queer Street, the less I ask.”

If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also.

It was a wild, cold, seasonable night of March, with a pale moon, lying on her back as though the wind had tilted her, and flying wrack of the most diaphanous and lawny texture.

I, for my part, from the nature of my life, advanced infallibly in one direction and in one direction only.