Mere abuse is no criticism.

There was the man who seemed to be attempting to decieve his ball and lull it into a false sense of security by looking away from it and then making a lightning slash in the apparent hope of catching it off its guard.

Half a league Half a league Half a league onward With a hey-nonny-nonny And a hot cha-cha.

I always advise people never to give advice.

Never put anything on paper, my boy, and never trust a man with a small black moustache.

He was a long, stripy policeman, who flowed out of his uniform at odd spots, as if Nature, setting out to make a constable, had had a good deal of material left over which she had not liked to throw away but hardly seemed able to fit into the general scheme.

It was loud in spots and less loud in other spots, and it had that quality which I have noticed in all violin solos of seeming to last much longer than it actually did.