It is not the being paid money in advance that jars the sensitive artist: it is the having to work.

[I'm] as broke as the ten commandments.

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

Confidence, of course is an admirable asset to a golfer, but it should be an unspoken confidence. It is perilous to put it into speech. The gods of golf lie in wait to chasten the presumptious.

It ought to be a criminal offence for women to dye their hair. Especially red. What the devil do women do that sort of thing for?

I suppose he must have taken about a nine or something in hats. Shows what a rotten thing it is to let your brain develop too much.

Golf is the Great Mystery. Like some capricous goddess, it bestows its favours with what would appear an almost fat-headed lack of method and discrimination. On every side we see big two-fisted he-men floundering round in three figures, stopping every few minutes to let through little shrimps with knock-knees and hollow cheeks, who are tearing up snappy seventy-fours.