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.
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.
She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.
Golf, like measles, should be caught young.
The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.
