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

Chumps always make the best husbands. All the unhappy marriages come from the husbands having brains.

It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is.

Many bad golfers marry, feeling that a wife's loving solicitude may improve their game. But they are rugged, thick-skinned men, not sensitive and introspective. It is one of the chief merits of golf that non-success at the game induces a certain amount of decent humilty, which keeps a man from pluming himself too much on any petty triumphs he may achieve in other walks of life.

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

He looked haggard and careworn, like a Borgia who has suddenly remembered that he has forgotten to shove cyanide in the consommé, and the dinner-gong due any moment.

In your walks about London you will sometimes see bent, haggard figures that look as if they had recently been caught in some powerful machinery. They are those fellows who got mixed up with Catsmeat when he was meaning well.