“... can I have the heart to fluster the flustered Thipps further—that's very difficult to say quickly—by appearing in a top-hat and frock-coat? I think not. Ten to one he will overlook my trousers and mistake me for the undertaker. A grey suit, I fancy, neat but not gaudy, with a hat to tone, suits my other self better. Exit the amateur of first editions; new motive introduced by solo bassoon; enter Sherlock Holmes, disguised as a walking gentleman.”

“let me put on my Sherlock Holmes deer-stalker hat and think why else a junkie might be shivering!”

“My pulse slowed, and as Jenks charmed the ladies behind the counter into flustered goo, I tried to look cool and professional among the plastic toys and paper hats. It wasn’t going to happen, so I tried for dangerous. I think I managed cranky...”

“Our friend Tuesday," said the President in a deep voice at once of quietude and volume, "our friend Tuesday doesn't seem to grasp the idea. He dresses up like a gentleman, but he seems to be too great a soul to behave like one. He insists on the ways of the stage conspirator. Now if a gentleman goes about London in a top hat and a frock-coat, no one need know that he is an anarchist. But if a gentleman puts on a top hat and a frock-coat, and then goes about on his hands and knees — well, he may attract attention. That's what Brother Gogol does. He goes about on his hands and knees with such inexhaustible diplomacy, that by this time he finds it quite difficult to walk upright.""I am not good at goncealment," said Gogol sulkily, with a thick foreign accent; "I am not ashamed of the cause.""Yes you are, my boy, and so is the cause of you," said the President good-naturedly. "You hide as much as anybody; but you can't do it, you see, you're such an ass! You try to combine two inconsistent methods. When a householder finds a man under his bed, he will probably pause to note the circumstance. But if he finds a man under his bed in a top hat, you will agree with me, my dear Tuesday, that he is not likely ever to forget it. Now when you were found under Admiral Biffin's bed—""I am not good at deception," said Tuesday gloomily, flushing."Right, my boy, right," said the President with a ponderous heartiness, "you aren't good at anything.”

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" she asked softly.A slow boyish smile spread across his features. "What would you think if I told you no?"Lauren laughed. "I'd think you were trying to appear modest.""Then what am I supposed to do now?" he teased. "I suppose you should try to look a little flustered and embarrassed by the flattery.""I don't fluster or embarrass very easily.""In that case, you could try to fluster me by telling me how I look," she hinted broadly.”

“A politician is a politician whether he's wearing a suit or a funny hat.”