His Sanguine Spirit Turns Every Firefly Into

His Incredible Untidiness, His Addiction To Music At Strange Hours, His Occasional Revolver Practice Within Doors, His Weird And Often Malodorous Scientific Experiments, And The Atmosphere Of Violence And Danger Which Hung Around Him Made Him The Very Worst Tenant In London.

Anything Is Better Than Stagnation.

It Is, I Admit, Mere Imagination; But How Often Is Imagination The Mother Of Truth?

"i Can See Nothing," Said I, Handing It Back To My Friend. "on The Contrary, Watson, You Can See Everything. You Fail, However, To Reason From What You See. You Are Too Timid In Drawing Your Inferences."

Critics Kind Never Mind! Critics Flatter No Matter! Critics Blame All The Same! Do Your Best Damn The Rest!