In a series of events, all of which had been a bit thick, this, in his opinion, achieved the maximum of thickness.

Bertie," he said, "I want your advice." "Carry on." "At least, not your advice, because that wouldn't be much good to anybody. I mean, you're a pretty consummate old [prat], aren't you? Not that I want to hurt your feelings, of course." "No, no, I see that." "What I wish you to do is put the whole thing to that fellow Jeeves of yours, and see what he suggests.

It is the bungled crime that brings remorse.

Other men puffed, snorted, and splashed. George passed through the ocean with the silent dignity of a torpedo. Other men swallowed water, here a mouthful, there a pint, anon, maybe, a quart or so, and returned to the shore like foundering derelicts. George's mouth had all the exclusiveness of a fashionable club. His breast stroke was a thing to see and wonder at. When he did the crawl, strong men gasped. When he swam on his back, you felt that that was the only possible method of progression.

The ideas of debtor and creditor as to what constitutes a good time never coincide.

But everything is relative, Bertie... You, for instance, are my relative, and I am your relative.

Gussie, a glutton for punishment, stared at himself in the mirror.