kissing someone out of pity is always a mistake.
I knew the answer, and--of course--so did Ramses. He has superb breath control and always gets in ahead of me.
Noble causes have a deplorable effect on the morals of the persons who espouse them.
It was hate at first sight, clean, pure and strong as grain alcohol.
Another dead body. Every year it is the same. Every year, another dead body.
I have learned that particularly clever ideas do not always stand up under close scrutiny.
A lady cannot be blamed if a master criminal takes a fancy to her.
I do not scruple to employ mendacity and a fictitious appearance of female incompetence when the occasion demands it.
I do hope you have some money. I'm getting tired of hitting people.
Many persons lead lives of crushing boredom.
I would not be at all surprised to find that it was for gold that Cain committed the first murder. (It happened a very long time ago, and Holy Writ, though no doubt divinely inspired, is a trifle careless about details. God is not a historian).
If you take a man by surprise, and behave with sufficient arrogance, he will generally do what you ask. -Emerson
Nefret had always had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts. 'Did she cry?' she asked sweetly. 'And then you kissed her? You shouldn't have done that. I'm sure you meant well, but kissing someone out of pity is always a mistake.
When one is striding bravely into the future one cannot watch one's footing.
I don't think she realized how much she cared for him, or he for her, until the end. Hasn't someone said a woman may be known by the men who love her enough to die for her? (If they haven't, I claim the credit myself.)
I would never have supposed that inexperienced girl was capable of such cold-blooded, calculating manipulation!
In the silence I heard Bastet, who had retreated under the bed, carrying on a mumbling, profane monologue. (If you ask how I knew it was profane, I presume you have never owned a cat.)
The trouble with unknown enemies is that they are so difficult to identify.
Humor is an excellent method of keeping a tight rein on unproductive displays of emotion.
The cat Horus shot out from under the table and headed for the door, his ears flattened and his tail straight out. There he encountered Abdullah, who had been waiting for us on the verandah and who had, I supposed, been alarmed by Emerson's shouts and hurried to discover what disaster had prompted them. The cat got entangled in Abdullah's skirts and a brief interval of staggering (by Abdullah), scratching (by Horus) and swearing (by both parties) ensued before Horus freed himself and departed.
I will tell you a little secret about archaeologists, dear Reader. They all pretend t be very high-minded. They claim that their sole aim in excavation is to uncover the mysteries of the past and add to the store of human knowledge. They lie. What they really want is a spectacular discovery, so they can get their names in the newspapers and inspire envy and hatred in the hearts of their rivals.
..he continues to cling to the forlorn hope that I will turn into one of those swooning females...and fling myself squeeling at him whenever anything happens. Like all men, he clings to his illusions.
Ramses had always been fond of Helen, in his peculiar fashion, but if he had looked at me as he was looking at her, I would have sent for a constable.
I had refused Emerson's well-meant offers of assistance, knowing his efforts would be confined to moving the furniture to the wrong places and demanding how much longer the process would take.
The way to get on with a cat is to treat it as an equal - or even better, as the superior it knows itself to be.
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