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

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

Unseen in the background, Fate was quietly slipping lead into the boxing-glove.

If men's minds were like dominoes, surely his would be the double blank.

We must always remember, however,' said Psmith gravely, 'that poets are also God's creatures.

The storm is over, there is sunlight in my heart. I have a glass of wine and sit thinking of what has passed.

In his normal state he would not strike a lamb. I’ve known him to do it’ ‘Do what?’ ‘Not strike lambs