He was a tubby little chap who looked as if he had been poured into his clothes and had forgotten to say 'when!'
To find a man's true character, play golf with him.
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.
Her pupils were at once her salvation and her despair. They gave her the means of supporting life, but they made life hardly worth supporting.
She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.
Golf, like measles, should be caught young.