This man’s brother I was telling you about,” said Spennie, “says there’s only one rhyme in the English language to ‘burglar’, and that’s ‘gurgler’. Unless you count ‘pergola’, he says – –.
After all, what could be pleasanter than a little literature in the small hours?
Love is a fever which, so to speak, drives off without wasting time on the address.
I can’t stand Paris. I hate the place. Full of people talking French.
I could make a poet out of far less promising material. I could make a poet out of two sticks and a piece of orange peel.
Jeeves’ eyes had taken on the look of cautious reserve which you see in those of parrots, when offered half a banana by a stranger of whose bona fides they are not convinced.
Aunt Agatha is like an elephant- not so much to look at, for in appearance she resembles more a well-bred vulture, but because she never forgets.
A drawback to success in life is that failure, when it does come, acquires an exaggerated importance.
It’s half the battle to get a line on the adored object’s favourite literature. Mug it up and decant an excerpt and she’s all over you. Next moment Freddie was hareing off for a Collected Works of Tennyson. Relieved, because, girls being ehat they are, it might easily have been Shelley or even Browning.
He was always in a sort of fever because he was dropping behind schedule with his daily acts of kindness. However hard he tried, he’d fall behind; and then you would find him prowling about the house, setting such a clip to try and catch up with himself that Easeby was rapidly becoming a perfect hell for man and beast.
I don’t suppose that anything you say or anything I say will make the slightest damn bit of difference. You need dynamite to dislodge an idea that has got itself firmly rooted in the public mind.
Most of the Marois Bay scenery is simply made as a setting for the nursing of a wounded heart. The cliffs are a sombre indigo, sinister and forbidding; and even on the finest days the sea has a curious sullen look. You have only to get away from the crowd near the bathing-machines and reach one of these small coves and get your book against a rock and your pipe well alight, and you can simply wallow in misery. I have done it myself.
It wavered in style between the formal and the chummy, beginning ‘Dear Madam’, and ending ‘So you see what a spot I’m in, ducky,’ but it did present the facts.
It was all Mrs. Waddington could do to refrain from hurling a bust of Edgar Allan Poe at her head.
I believe, if you played your cards right, you could still marry her, Pongo.’ ‘Aren’t you overlooking the trifling fact that I happen to be engaged to Hermione?’ ‘Slide out of it.’ ‘Ha!’ ‘It is what your best friends would advise. You are a moody, introspective young man, all too prone to look on the dark side of things. I shall never forget you that day at the dog races. Sombre is the only word to describe your attitude as the cop’s fingers closed on your coat collar. You.
She did not cease to look like a basilisk, but she began to look like a basilisk who has had a good lunch.
Every man is liable on occasion to behave like a sulky schoolboy.
The train began to give up its contents, now in ones and twos, now in a steady stream.
When you are discovered by a householder – with revolver – in his parlor at half-past three in the morning, it is surely an injudicious move to lay stress on your proficiency as a burglar. The householder may be supposed to take that for granted.
One of the rooted convictions of each member of the human race is that he or she is able without difficulty to open a door which has baffled their fellows.