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

I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.

Woman is the unfathomable, incalculable mystery, the problem we men can never hope to solve.

We Woosters freeze like the dickens when we seek sympathy and meet with cold reserve. "Nothing further Jeeves", I said with quiet dignity.

Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is wiser not to stir them.

Do men who have got all their marbles go swimming in lakes with their clothes on?

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.