“So you think that the coco- mark well what I say, Hastings, the coco- contained strychnine?" "Of course! That salt on the tray, what else could it have been?" "It might have been salt." replied Poirot placidly.”

“Coco, however, courted consequence; she was still a girl, and she still assumed a connection between what she was doing and what she wanted and what might result.”

“I could think of nothing else to say to her. In fact I could never think of anything to say to her, and I sat thinking of past painful conversations between us: How are you, Jean Louise? Fine, thank you ma'am, how are you? Very well, thank you; what have you been doing with yourself? Nothin'. Don't you do anything? Nome. Certainly you have friends? Yessum. Well what do you all do? Nothin'.”

“I blinked at him. "What does salt have to do with any of this?""It protects you from evil.""Salt?" Disbelief all but dripped from my voice. I couldn't help it. "Table salt? How is seasoning myself going to help? This isn't a dinner party.”

“What is, is, and what might have been could never have existed.”

“I don't think anything might have been. What is, is.”