To find a man's true character, play golf with him.

When it comes to letting the world in on the secrets of his heart, he has about as much shrinking reticence as a steam calliope.

One prefers, of course, on all occasions to be stainless and above reproach, but, failing that, the next best thing is unquestionably to have got rid of the body.

It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky.

Dark hair fell in a sweep over his forehead. He looked like a man who would write vers libre, as indeed he did.

the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons

I don’t know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I always come up against when I’m telling a story is this dashed difficult problem of where to begin it.