One prefers, of course, on all occasions to be stainless and above reproach, but, failing that, the next best thing is unquestionably to have got rid of the body.

I laughed derisively. "For goodness' sake, don't start gargling now. This is serious." "I was laughing." "Oh, were you? Well, I'm glad to see you taking it in this merry spirit." "Derisively," I explained.

The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.

A lesser moustache, under the impact of that quick, agonised expulsion of breath, would have worked loose at the roots.

You would not enjoy Nietzsche, sir. He is fundamentally unsound.

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

You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing right out of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personality that paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain to cauliflower.