But everything is relative, Bertie... You, for instance, are my relative, and I am your relative.

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

you ever have that feeling when you step down onto a footstep that isn't there?

A melancholy-looking man, he had the appearance of one who has searched for the leak in life's gas-pipe with a lighted candle.

Hugo?’ ‘Millicent?’ ‘Is that you?’ ‘Yes. Is that you?’ ‘Yes.’ Anything in the nature of misunderstanding was cleared away. It was both of them.

I started violently, as if some unseen hand had goosed me.

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