Ordinarily busy Mary Russell relaxes

Moments of pure relaxation were rare for me. There was always the nagging of books unread, work undone, time a-wasting. For this brief slice of an afternoon, though, the choice was taken from me; the only alternative to relaxation was fretting. But the sun was too warm and my muscles too pleasantly loosened to fret, so I stretched out my long legs, crossed them a the boots, folded my glasses onto my stomach, and gave myself over to the sheer debauchery of simply lying in the sun.

Laurie R. King, A Letter of Mary (New York: Picador, 1996), p. 235

Sherlock Holmes craves data

"Data," he said, sounding like a man pleading for water in a desert place. "I cannot form so much as a hypothesis without raw material."

Laurie R. King, A Letter of Mary (New York: Picador, 1996), p. 143

Thinking becomes dozing

Despite my intentions of using the time for careful introspection, I ended up inspecting no more than the backs of my eyelids.

Laurie R. King, A Letter of Mary (New York: Picador, 1996), p. 63

So few sensible men

Miss Russell, then—d'you know, you've married one of the three sensible men I've ever met. Brains are wasted on most men—do nothing with their minds but play games and make money. Never see what's in from of their noses, too busy making sweeping generalisations.

Laurie R. King, A Letter of Mary (New York: Picador, 1996), p. 16 (Dorothy Ruskin speaking)