“That is what I mean. A bath! The receptacle of porcelain, one turns the taps and fills it, one gets in, one gets out and ghoosh - ghoosh - ghoosh, the water goes down the waste pipe!""M. Poirot are you quite mad?""No, I am extremely sane.”

“Inside every sane person there's a madman struggling to get out," said the shopkeeper. "That's what I've always thought. No one goes mad quicker than a totally sane person.”

“I am most anxious to give my own children enough love and understanding so that they won't grow up with an aching void in them--like you and I and Harold and Martha. That can never be filled, and one goes around all one's life trying, trying to make up for what one didn't get that was one's birthright, asking the wrong people for it.”

“Get out, Get out, get out, get out!" I do what any sane male would do in this situation; I run down the hall and lock myself in her bedroom.”

“dying, you don't get to see how it all turns out. Questions you have asked will go unanswered forever. Will this one of my children settle down? Will that one learn to be happier? Will I ever discover what was meant by such-and-such?”

“You're not going to turn into a wanker, are you?" says Tone, opening a can of larger."What do you mean?""He means you're not going to get all studenty on us," says Spencer."Well, I am a student. I mean, I will be, so,...""No, but I mean you're not gong to get all twatty and up-your-own-arse and come home at Christmas in a gown, talking Latin and saying "one does" and "one thinks" and all that...""Yeah, Tone, that's EXACTLY what I'm going to do.”