“No, my friend, I am not drunk. I have just been to the dentist, and need not return for another six months! Is it not the most beautiful thought?--Poirot”

“Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking.""An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it.”

“Sorry, Christina, both my parents have gotten married within six months. I just need some time to adjust." oh, and plus, i don't like you.”

“It is now the fall of my second year in Paris. I was sent here for a reason I have not yet been able to fathom. I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive. A year ago, six months ago, i thought I was an artist. I no longer think about it. I am. There are no more books to be written, thank God.”

“But I did not return until half past four this morning and I distinctly remember stubbing my toe on the stairs. I am as drunk as a skunk, Drumknott, which of course means skunks are just as drunk as I. I must say the term is unfamiliar to me, and I had not thought hitherto of skunks in this context, but Mustrum Ridcully was kind enough to enlighten me.”

“I never thought I'd die alone. Another six months I'll be unknown. Give all my things to all my friends. You'll never set foot in my room again. You'll close it off, board it up. Remember the time that I spilled the cup of apple juice in the hall? Please tell mom this is not her fault.”