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Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie Quotes

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Famous Agatha Christie Quotes

“She was a very kind woman and she was always doing things for people. And she was always quite sure she knew the best thing to do. What they thought about it wouldn’t have mattered. I had an aunt like that. Very fond of seed cake herself and she used to bake seed cakes for people and take them to them, and she never troubled to find out whether they liked seed cake or not.”

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Book:The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side
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“When you read the account of a murder - or, say, a fiction story based on murder - you usually begin with the murder itself. That's all wrong. The murder begins a long time beforehand. A murder is the culmination of a lot of different circumstances, all converging at a given moment at a given point. People are brought into it from different parts of the globe and for unforeseen reasons. [...] The murder itself is the end of the story. It's Zero Hour.” He paused. “It's Zero Hour now.”

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Book:Towards Zero
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“Satterthwaite venne messo a sedere tra la giovane padrona di casa e una ragazza piccola di statura, bruna, molto cordiale, dalla voce risonante e con una risata squillante e risoluta che esprimeva più la decisione di essere allegra a ogni costo che la gioia vera e propria. Sembrava che si chiamasse Doris ed era il tipo di giovane donna per il quale Satterthwaite aveva la massima antipatia. Secondo la sua opinione, una ragazza del genere non aveva nessuna giustificazione artistica per esistere.”

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Book:Brividi d'autunno
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“A sound of laughter was heard-they turned sharply. Vera Claythorne was standing in the yard. She cried out in a high shrill voice, shaken with wild bursts of laughter: "Do they keep bees on this island? Tell me that. Where do we go for honey? Ha! ha!" They stared at her uncomprehendingly. It was as though the sane well-balanced girl had gone mad right before their eyes. She went on in that high unnatural voice: "Don't stare like that! As though you thought I was mad. It's sane enough what I'm asking. Bees, hives, bees! Oh, don't you understand? Haven't you read that idiotic rhyme? It's up in all of your bedrooms-put it there for you to study! We might have come here straightaway if we'd had sense. Seven little soldiers chopping up sticks. And the next verse, I know the whole thing by heart, I tell you! Six little soldier boys playing with a hive. And that's why I'm asking-do they keep bees on this island- isn't it damned funny...?”

MadIslandVera
Book:And Then There Were None
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“In our bedroom I chose curtains of bluebells, which was not really a good choice, because since this particular room faced north the sun seldom shone through. The only time they were pretty was when one lay in bed in mid-morning and saw the light shining through them, pulled back on either side of the window, or seen at night, the blue rather faded out. In fact, it was like bluebells in nature. As soon as you bring them into the house they turn grey and dispirited. and refuse to hold up their heads. A bluebell is a flower that refuses to b captured and is only gay when it is in the woods.”

BluebellsCapturing Beauty
Book:Agatha Christie: An Autobiography
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“—Então o senhor tem uma teoria? —Um detetive, M. Martin, sempre tem uma teoria. É o que se espera dele. Pessoalmente, não chamo de teoria. Digo que é uma ideiazinha. Essa é a primeira fase. —E a segunda? —Se a ideiazinha for acertada, então eu sei! É bastante simples, como se vê. —Gostaria que me dissesse qual é a sua teoria... ou ideiazinha.”

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Book:Lord Edgware Dies
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“I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any other woman's that I have ever known; the intense power of stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised body—all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never forget them.”

Hastings
Book:The Mysterious Affair at Styles
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“I'd rather have my job than yours." "Why?" "Because your job deals very largely with what we call right and wrong — and I'm not at all sure that there's any such thing. Suppose it's all a question of glandular secretion. Too much of one gland, too little of another — and you get your murderer, your thief, your habitual criminal. Clement, I believe the time will come when we'll be horrified to think of the long centuries in which we've indulged in what you may call moral reprobation, to think how we've punished people for disease — which they can't help, poor devils. You don't hang a man for having tuberculosis.”

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Book:Murder at the Vicarage
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“Or no-remember it, and if you think at any time that I am growing conceited —it is not likely, but it might arise." I concealed a smile. "Eh bien, my friend, you shall say to me, 'Chocolate box.' Is it agreed?" "It's a bargain!" "After all," said Poirot reflectively, "it was an experience! I, who have undoubtedly the finest brain in Europe at present, can afford to be magnanimous!" "Chocolate box," I murmured gently. "Pardon, mon ami?" I looked at Poirot's innocent face, as he bent forward inquiringly, and my heart smote me. I had suffered often at his hands, but I, too, though not possessing the finest brain in Europe, could afford to be magnanimous! "Nothing," I lied, and lit another pipe, smiling to myself.”

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Book:Poirot Investigates
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“What a mysterious thing sleep is. You go to bed worrying about gipsies and secret enemies and detectives planted in your house and the possibilities of kidnapping and a hundred other things, and sleep whisks you away from it all. You travel very far and you don’t know where you’ve been, but when you wake up, it’s a totally new world. No worries, no apprehensions. Instead, when I woke up on the 17th September, I was in a mood of boisterous excitement.”

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Book:Endless night
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“- Jums ir pačiai reikėtų šį tą apie tai išmanyti, mano vaike. O jūs negalvojate apie nieką kitą, išskyrus mėgintuvėlius ir mikroskopus. Jūsų pirštas išteptas su mėlynuoju metilenu. Jūsų vyras nebus labai laimingas, jei jūs visai nesirūpinsite jo skrandžiu. - Turiu pasakyti, kad aš neturėsiu vyro. - Jūs tikrai turėsite vyrą. Kam gi Dievas jus sukūrė? - Daugeliui dalykų, aš tikiuosi, - atsakė Judita.”

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Author:Agatha Christie
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“George listened to the radio and wondered whether that dear child Nancy would allow him to give her a fur coat. She was very proud, he knew. He didn't want to offend her. Still, she had complained of the cold. That tweed coat of hers was a cheap affair; it didn't keep the cold out. He could put it so that she wouldn't mind, perhaps... They must have another evening out soon. It was a pleasure to take a girl like that to a smart restaurant. He could see several young fellows were envying him. She was uncommonly pretty. And she liked him. To her, as she had told him, he didn't seem a bit old. He looked up and caught his wife's eye. He felt suddenly guilty, which annoyed him. What a narrow-minded, suspicious woman Maria was! She grudged him any little bit of happiness. He switched off the radio and went to bed.”

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Book:The Case of the Middle-Aged Wife - a Parker Pyne Short Story
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