They were real golfers, for real golf is a thing of the spirit, not of mere mechanical excellence of stroke.

Hell, it is well known, has no fury like a woman who wants her tea and can't get it.

What ho!" I said. "What ho!" said Motty. "What ho! What ho!" "What ho! What ho! What ho!" After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

I should think it extremely improbable that anyone ever wrote for money. Naturally, when he has written something, he wants to get as much for it as he can, but that is a very different thing from writing for money.

When it comes to letting the world in on the secrets of his heart, he has about as much shrinking reticence as a steam calliope.

I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it.

As a child of eight Mr. Trout had once kissed a girl of six under the mistletoe at a Christmas party, but there his sex life had come to abrupt halt.