Arthur Conan Doyle

The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.

Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius.

I never guess. It is a shocking habit—destructive to the logical faculty.

It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.

My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram, or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere.

To a great mind, nothing is little.

You see, but you do not observe.

The little things are infinitely the most important.

Crime is common. Logic is rare.

I am a brain, Watson. The rest of me is a mere appendix.

The lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.

It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.

The more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves to be.

There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.

I have a trade of my own. I suppose I am the only one in the world. I’m a consulting detective, if you can understand what that is.

The game is afoot.

You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.

The most difficult crime to track is the one which is purposeless.

The best way of successfully acting a part is to be it.

I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner.