The Sign of Four (Sherlock Holmes, #2)

by Arthur Conan Doyle

"Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the common herd. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character always differentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may write. There is vacillation in his k's and self-esteem in his capitals.

If she were seventeen at the time of her father's disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now,—a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience.

I am a man of somewhat retiring, and I might even say refined, tastes, and there is nothing more unaesthetic than a policeman.

Wir sind gewohnt das die Menschen verhöehnen was sie nicht verstehen.'

After the angelic fashion of women, she had borne trouble with a calm face as long as there was some one weaker than herself to support,

She was weak and helpless, shaken in mind and nerve. It was to take her at a disadvantage to obtrude love upon her at such a time. Worse still, she was rich.

I have a curious constitution. I never remember feeling tired by work, though idleness exhausts me completely.

Watson, you have never yet recognized my merits as a housekeeper."

Holmes could talk exceedingly well when he chose, and that night he did choose.

and to drag him, like some evil fish, over our side.

Never was a man so compassed round with death.