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The future was with Fate. The present was our own.
Arthur Conan Doyle
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Arthur Conan Doyle
Age: 71 †
Born: 1859
Born: May 22
Died: 1930
Died: July 7
Crime Writer
Essayist
Novelist
Physician
Physician Writer
Playwright
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Edinburgh
Scotland
Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle
Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle
Sir A. Conan Doyle
Arthur Conan
Sir Doyle
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Future
Belts
Poison
Fate
Present
More quotes by Arthur Conan Doyle
The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Accounts are not quite settled between us, said she, with a passion that equaled my own. I can love, and I can hate. You had your choice. You chose to spurn the first now you must test the other.
Arthur Conan Doyle
The more outré and grotesque an incident is the more carefully it deserves to be examined.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth.
Arthur Conan Doyle
What can we know? What are we all? Poor silly half-brained things peering out at the infinite, with the aspirations of angels and the instinct of beasts.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Brothers are a blessing for one thing. There is no possibility of any young lady getting unreasonably conceited if she be endowed with them.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Critics kind never mind! Critics flatter no matter! Critics blame all the same! Do your best damn the rest!
Arthur Conan Doyle
It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believes that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes.
Arthur Conan Doyle
That which is clearly known hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco.
Arthur Conan Doyle
So it was, my dear Watson, that at two o'clock today I found myself in my old armchair in my own old room, and only wishing that I could have seen my old friend Watson in the other chair which he has so often adorned. - Sherlock Holmes.
Arthur Conan Doyle
We had got as far as this, when who should walk in but the gentleman himself, who had been drinking his beer in the taproom and had heard the whole conversation. Who was I? What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions? He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives were very vigorous.
Arthur Conan Doyle
What a creature he was! Never have I felt such a horse between my knees. His great haunches gathered under him with every stride, and he shot forward ever faster and faster, stretched like a greyhound, while the windbeat in my face and whistled past my ears.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Keep your revolver near you night and day, and never relax your precautions.
Arthur Conan Doyle
'It is my duty to warn you that it will be used against you,' cried the Inspector, with the magnificent fair play of the British criminal law.
Arthur Conan Doyle
The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home.
Arthur Conan Doyle
It seems very strange ... that in the course of the world's history so obvious an improvement should never have been adopted. ... The next generation of Britishers would be the better for having had this extra hour of daylight in their childhood.
Arthur Conan Doyle
Evil indeed is the man who has not one woman to mourn him.
Arthur Conan Doyle
When people bury treasure nowadays they do it in the Post-Office bank.
Arthur Conan Doyle
The sky was of the deepest blue, with a few white, fleecy clouds drifting lazily across it, and the air was filled with the low drone of insects or with a sudden sharper note as bee or bluefly shot past with its quivering, long-drawn hum, like an insect tuning-fork.
Arthur Conan Doyle
