She looked away. Her attitude seemed to suggest that she had finished with him, and would be obliged if somebody would come and sweep him up.

It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.

Every author really wants to have letters printed in the papers. Unable to make the grade, he drops down a rung of the ladder and writes novels.

She could not have gazed at him with a more rapturous intensity if she had been a small child and he a saucer of ice cream.

An apple a day, if well aimed, keeps the doctor away.

There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship than a mutual taste in literature.

We Woosters freeze like the dickens when we seek sympathy and meet with cold reserve. "Nothing further Jeeves", I said with quiet dignity.