There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, 'Do trousers matter?'" "The mood will pass, sir.

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

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.

It ought to be a criminal offence for women to dye their hair. Especially red. What the devil do women do that sort of thing for?

I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.

He enjoys that perfect peace, that peace beyond all understanding, which comes to its maximum only to the man who has given up golf.

Like so many substantial citizens of America, he had married young and kept on marrying, springing from blonde to blonde like the chamois of the Alps leaping from crag to crag.