They pointed out that the friendship between the two artists had always been a byword or whatever you called it. A well-read Egg summed it up by saying that they were like Thingummy and what's-his-name.

The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.

The stationmaster's whiskers are of a Victorian bushiness and give the impression of having been grown under glass.

I mean to say, I know perfectly well that I've got, roughly speaking, half the amount of brain a normal bloke ought to possess. And when a girl comes along who has about twice the regular allowance, she too often makes a bee line for me with the love light in her eyes. I don't know how to account for it, but it is so." "It may be Nature's provision for maintaining the balance of the species, sir.

The brains of members of the Press departments of motion-picture studios resemble soup at a cheap restaurant. It is wiser not to stir them.

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

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