The stationmaster's whiskers are of a Victorian bushiness and give the impression of having been grown under glass.

That is life. Just one long succession of misunderstandings and rash acts and what not. Absolutely.

Now, I'm a mixer. I can't help it. It's my nature. I like men. I like the taste of their boots, the smell of their legs, and the sound of their voices. It may be weak of me, but a man has only to speak to me, and a sort of thrill goes down my spine and sets my tail wagging.

One of the drawbacks to life is that it contains moments when one is compelled to tell the truth.

I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it.

And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.

Many a man may look respectable, and yet be able to hide at will behind a spiral staircase.