Mr Howard Saxby, literary agent, was knitting a sock. He knitted a good deal, he would tell you if you asked him, to keep himself from smoking, adding that he also smoked a good deal to keep himself from knitting.

If there is one thing I dislike, it is the man who tries to air his grievances when I wish to air mine.

I shoved on a dressing-gown, and flew downstairs like a mighty, rushing wind.

I pity the shrimp that matches wits with you Jeeves

The spine, and I do not attempt to conceal the fact, had become soluble, in the last degree.

He shimmered out, and I sat up in bed with that rather unpleasant feeling you get sometimes that you're going to die in about five minutes.

It was a silver cow. But when I say 'cow', don't go running away with the idea of some decent, self-respecting cudster such as you may observe loading grass into itself in the nearest meadow. This was a sinister, leering, Underworld sort of animal, the kind that would spit out of the side of its mouth for twopence.