“Roderick Spode is the founder of the Saviours of Britain, a fascist organisation better know as the 'Black Shorts'...When you say 'shorts' mean 'shirts', of course.No. By the time Spode formed his association, there were no shirts left. He and his adherents wear black shorts.Footer bags, you mean?Yes.How perfectly foul.”

“The silly ass had left the kitchen door open, and I hadn't gone two steps when his voice caught me squarely in the eardrum.'You will find Mr Wooster', he was saying to the substitue chappie, 'an extremely pleasant and amiable young gentleman, but not intelligent. By no means intelligent. Mentally he is negligible - quite negligible'.Well, I mean to say. What!I suppose, strictly speaking, I ought to have charged in and ticked the blighter off properly in no uncertain voice. But I doubht whether it is humanly possible to tick Jeeves off.”

“A cad of the lowest order with a soul as black as his fingernails.”

“[Aunt Dahlia to Bertie Wooster] 'To look at you, one would think you were just an ordinary sort of amiable idiot--certifiable, perhaps, but quite harmless. Yet, in reality, you are worse a scourge than the Black Death. I tell you, Bertie, when I contemplate you I seem to come up against all the underlying sorrow and horror of life with such a thud that I feel as if I had walked into a lamp post. I thought as much. Well, it needed but this. I don't see how things could possibly be worse than they are, but no doubt you will succeed in making them so. Your genius and insight will find the way. Carry on, Bertie. Yes, carry on. I am past caring now. I shall even find a faint interest in seeing into what darker and profounder abysses of hell you can plunge this home. Go to it, lad..I remember years ago, when you were in your cradle, being left alone with you one day and you nearly swallowed your rubber comforter and started turning purple. And I, ass that I was, took it out and saved your life. Let me tell you, young Bertie, it will go very hard with you if you ever swallow a rubber comforter again when only I am by to aid.”

“It was the look which Ajax had in his eyes when he defied the lightning, the look which nervous husbands have when they announce their intention of going round the corner to bowl a few games with the boys. One could not say definitely that Lord Marshmoreton looked pop-eyed. On the other hand, one could not assert truthfully that he did not.”

“When it comes to letting the world in on the secrets of his heart, he has about as much shrinking reticence as a steam calliope.”

“Some minds are like soup in a poor restaurant—better left unstirred.”