“To count - really and truly to count - a woman must have goodness or brains.”

“And so could you know it if you would only use the brains the good God has given you. Sometimes I really am tempted to believe that by inadvertence, He passed you by.”

“It is the brain, the little gray cells on which one must rely. One must seek the truth within--not without." ~ Poirot”

“What is a secretary to a millionaire? Nine times out of ten it is a young man who likes living soft. A young man with nice manners and a taste for luxury and no brains and no enterprise, and if there is anything that is a softer job than being secretary to a millionaire it is marrying a rich woman for her money.”

“It is really a hard life. Men will not be nice to you if you are not good-looking, and women will not be nice to you if you are.”

“Poirot's eyes opened. "That is great ferocity," he said."It is a woman," said the chef de train, speaking for the first time. "Depend upon it, it was a woman. Only a woman would stab like that."Dr. Constantine screwed up his face thoughtfully. "She must have been a very strong woman," he said. "It is not my desire to speak technically-that is only confusing; but I can assure you that two of the blows were delivered with such forces as to drive them through hard belts of bone and muscle.""It was clearly not a scientific crime," said Poirot."It was most unscientific," returned Dr. Constantine."The blows seem to have been delivered haphazard and at random. Some have glanced off, doing hardly any damage. It is as though somebody had shut his eyes and then in a frenzy struck blindly again and again.""C'est une femme," said the chef de train again. "Women are like that. When they are enraged they have great strength." He nodded so sagely that everyone suspected a personal experience of his own.”

“I've heard that you're the cat's whiskers, M. Poirot.""Comment? The cat's whiskers? I do not understand.""Well that you're It.""Madame, I may or may not have brains - as a matter of fact I have - why pretend?”