20 Quotes by Mitch Cullin

To comprehend yourself truly, which is also to comprehend the world truly, you needn’t look any farther than at what abounds with life around you – the blossoming meadow, the untrodden woodlands. Without this as mankind’s overriding objective, I don’t foresee an age of actual enlightenment ever arriving.

Is that true? Are you really him?”“I am afraid I still hold that distinction.”“You are Sherlock Holmes? No, I don’t believe it.”“That is quite all right. I scarcely believe it myself.

But as of late, I have been consumed with the significant task of revising the latest edition of my Practical Handbook of Bee Culture, while alternately putting the finishing touches on my four volumes of The Whole Art of Detection. The latter is a rather tedious, labyrinthine undertaking...

I am afraid I never wore a deerstalker, or smoked the big pipe – mere embellishments by an illustrator, intended to give me distinction, I suppose, and sell magazines. I didn’t get much say in the matter.

You know, we bungled a number of important cases – regrettably. Of course, who wants to read about the failures? I certainly don’t.

How amazing it was, Holmes mentioned, that such a powerful substance, the chemistry of which was still not completely known, could be produced by the pharyngeal glands of the worker bee –creating queens from ordinary bee larvae, healing a multitude of mankind’s ills.

On my first evening in the back country, I skipped down the porch steps of the farmhouse-leaving my father inside and the radio playing and my small suitcase decorated with neon flower stickers unpacked-and wandered towards the upside-down school bus I'd spied from an upstairs window.

Lastly, it should be noted that the nostalgia which the reading public maintains for my former Baker Street address does not exist in me. I no longer crave the bustle of London streets, nor do I miss navigating the tangled mires created by the criminally disposed.

On my first evening in the back country, I skipped down the porch steps of the farmhouse-leaving my father inside and the radio playing and my small suitcase decorated with neon flower stickers unpacked-and wandered towards the upside-down school bus I’d spied from an upstairs window.