“The dawn will be upon us in a couple of hours. We need to leave this place.""I won't go with you," she insisted stubbornly."If your pride dictates that you must fight me, you may try to do so." His voice, with its Old World cadence and formality, was almost tender.Her eyes deepened to purple. "Stop giving me your permission! I am Mikhail and Raven's daughter, a Carpathian like yourself and not without my own powers. I have the right to my own choices!""If it pleases you to think so.”

“Are you planning on asking my daughter's permission to ravish me as I deserve? If so, please take heed when she informs you that I am lonely and need a woman in my life. She's been nagging me for the last five years to find one." "In your dreams, bat boy.”

“My dear Poirot, it's not for me to dictate to you. You have a right to your own opinion, just as I have mine.”

“I never thought of it like that. I always thought of you as a part of me, like my own eyes or my own hands. You don't go around thinking 'I love my eyes, I love my hands', do you? But think what it would be like to live without your eyes or your hands. To be mad, or to be blind. I can't talk about it. It's how I feel.”

“Really, Watson, you excel yourself," said Holmes, pushing back his chair and lighting a cigarette. "I am bound to say that in all the accounts which you have been so good as to give of my own small achievements you have habitually underrated your own abilities. It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it. I confess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in your debt.”

“Why did you betray your own heart Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. ... You loved me - then what right had you to leave me? Because ... nothing God or satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart - you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine. So much the worse for me that I am strong. Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you - oh God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave? [...] I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer - but yours! How can I?”