His whole aspect was that of a man who has unexpectedly been struck by lightning.

Another of these strong silent men. The world is full of us.

If it were not for quotations, conversations between gentlemen would consist of an endless series of 'what-ho!'s.

We do not tell old friends beneath our roof-tree that they are an offence to the eyesight.

A little bit added to what you've already got gives you a little bit more.

Like so many substantial citizens of America, he had married young and kept on marrying, springing from blonde to blonde like the chamois of the Alps leaping from crag to crag.

Say what you will, there is something fine about our old aristocracy. I'll bet Trotsky couldn't hit a moving secretary with an egg on a dark night.