I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. — Arthur Conan Doyle

A man should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it.

Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another.

The lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.