His Sanguine Spirit Turns Every Firefly Into

Just As An Octopus May Have His Den In Some Ocean Cave, And Come Floating Out A Silent Image Of Horror To Attack A Swimmer, So I Picture Such A Spirit Lurking In The Dark Of The House Which He Curses By His Presence, And Ready To Float Out Upon All Whom He Can Injure.

No Man Lives Or Has Ever Lived Who Has Brought The Same Amount Of Study And Of Natural Talent To The Detection Of Crime Which I Have Done.

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.

Have You Tried To Drive A Harpoon Through A Body? No? Tut, Tut, My Dear Sir, You Must Really Pay Attention To These Details.

It Is Horrible, Yet Fascinating, This Struggle Between A Set Purpose And An Utterly Exhausted Frame.