[Looking out the window during a flight] Looks just like a patchwork quilt, doesn't it?
[Terrified of heights, his eyes closed] No!
Well, it does to me. Does to everybody else.
Not to Poirot!
I suppose you don't think [those clouds] look like a great mass of cotton wool.
No!
I don't think you've got any imagination at all, Poirot.
That is true, mon ami. But fortunately, you have enough for both of us.
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