Well, there it is. That's Jeeves. Where others merely smite the brow and clutch the hair, he acts. Napoleon was the same.

Marriage is not a process for prolonging the life of love, sir. It merely mummifies its corpse.

She looked like something that might have occured to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.

I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.

You would be miserable if you had to go through life with a human doormat with 'Welcome' written on him. You want some one made of sterner stuff. You want, as it were, a sparring-partner, some one with whom you can quarrel happily with the certain knowledge that he will not curl up in a ball for you to kick, but will be there with the return wallop.

Just another proof, of course, of what I often say - it takes all sorts to make a world.

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