One Must Wait Till It

Draw Your Chair Up, And Hand Me My Violin, For The Only Problem Which We Have Still To Solve Is How To While Away These Bleak Autumnal Evenings.

Well, Well, My Dear Fellow, Be It So. We Have Shared This Same Room For Some Years, And It Would Be Amusing If We Ended By Sharing The Same Cell. (...)

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.

Man, Or At Least Criminal Man, Has Lost All Enterprise And Originality. As To My Own Little Practice, It Seems To Be Degenerating Into An Agency For Recovering Lost Lead Pencils And Giving Advice To Young Ladies From Boarding-schools.

There Is A Danger There - A Very Real Danger To Humanity. Consider, Watson, That The Material, The Sensual, The Worldly Would All Prolong Their Worthless Lives. The Spiritual Would Not Avoid The Call To Something Higher. It Would Be The Survival Of The Least Fit. What Sort Of Cesspool May Not Our Poor World Become?