Arthur Conan Doyle

Birdy Edwards is here. I am Birdy Edwards!

Education never ends Watson. It is a series of lessons with the greatest for the last.

There should be no combination of events for which the wit of man cannot conceive an explanation.

It is not for me, my dear Watson, to stand in the way of the official police force.

Should I ever marry, Watson, I should hope to inspire my wife with some feeling which would prevent her from being walked off by a housekeeper when my corpse was lying within a few yards of her.

We are devil-ridden, Mr. Holmes! My poor parish is devil-ridden! Satan himself is loose in it! We are given over into his hands!

The vocabulary of Bradshaw is nervous and terse, but limited.

I think, Watson, that I shall resume that course of tobacco-poisoning which you have so often and so justly condemned.

"Think of Mycroft's note, of the Admiralty, the Cabinet, the exalted person who waits for news. We are bound to go."

My answer was to rise from the table.

"You are right, Holmes. We are bound to go."

I fear that if the matter is beyond humanity it is certainly beyond me. Yet we must exhaust all natural explanations before we fall back upon such a theory as this.

Holmes, you are not yourself. A sick man is but a child.

Indeed, I cannot think why the whole bed of the ocean is not one solid mass of oysters, so prolific the creatures seem.