There Seems To Me To

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.

The Devil’s Agents May Be Of Flesh And Blood, May They Not?

Depend Upon It, There Is Nothing So Unnatural As The Commonplace.

Hot Hate Is Twin Brother To Hot Love.

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.