P. G. Wodehouse

“ I asked.
"My club boys," said Hatton. "They belong to the most dingy quarter of the whole of London—South Lambeth. They are not hooligans. They are not so interesting as that. They represent the class of youth that is a stratum or two above hooliganism. Frightful weeds. They lack the robust animalism of the class below them, and they lack the intelligence of the class above them. The fellows at my club are mostly hard-working mechanics and under-paid office boys. They have nothing approaching a sense of humour or the instinct of sport." ”

“ It's Fate who arranges the programme, and, by stress of business, Fate postpones many contests so late that before they can take place the man has died. Those who die before their fight comes on are called rich men. To return, however, to my own monster: I was at last convinced that he was dead a thousand times——"
"How long have you had this conviction?" asked Julian.
"The absolute certainty that my monster has ceased to exist came to me this morning whilst I brushed my hair."
"Ah," said Julian; "and now, I suppose, you really will write to Miss Margaret——" He paused. ”

“ Not a woman that counted, that's to say. I am shy with women. I can talk to them in a sort of way, but I never seem able to get intimate. Margaret was different. She saved my life, and we spent the summer in Guernsey together."
"And you seriously expected not to fall in love?" Julian laughed "My dear Jimmy, you ought to write a psychological novel." ”