If You Are To Be Hercule Poirot,

Jealousy, You Know, Is Usually Not An Affair Of Causes. It Is Much More-how Shall I Say?-fundamental Than That. Based On The Knowledge That One's Love Is Not Returned. And So One Goes On Waiting, Watching, Expecting...that The Loved One Will Turn To Someone Else.

I Was Thinking, That When My Time Comes, I Should Be Sorry If The Only Plea I Had To Offer Was That Of Justice. Because It Might Mean That Only Justice Would Be Meted Out To Me.

As Life Goes On It Becomes Tiring To Keep Up The Character You Invented For Yourself, And So You Relapse Into Individuality And Become More Like Yourself Everyday.

The Tragedy Of Life Is That People Do Not Change.

Poirot: Do Not Allow Hate Into Your Heart, For It Will Make A Home There. Jackie: If Love Cannot Live There, Hate Works Just As Well.