She looked like something that might have occured to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.

A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn't been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them.

Slice him where you like, a hellhound is always a hellhound.

It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is.

He was a long, stripy policeman, who flowed out of his uniform at odd spots, as if Nature, setting out to make a constable, had had a good deal of material left over which she had not liked to throw away but hardly seemed able to fit into the general scheme.

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

Mere abuse is no criticism.