“As to animals," said the Count unexpectedly, "whatever one says, I maintain that the rodent family has a certain charm about it.""The rodent family . . . ?" replied the Baron, not getting the drift at all."Rabbits, marmots, squirrels, and the like.""You have pets of that sort, sir?""No, sir, not at all. Too much of an odor. It would be all over the house.""Ah, I see. Very charming, but you wouldn't have them in the house, is that it?" "Well, sir, in the first place, they seem to have been ignored by the poets, d'you see. And what has no place in a poem has no place in my house. That's my family rule.""I see.""No, I don't keep them as pets. But they're such fuzzy, timid little creatures that I can't help thinking there's no more charming animal.""Yes, Count, I quite agree.""Actually, sir, every charming creature, no matter what sort, seems to have a strong odor.""Yes, indeed, sir. I believe one might say so.”

“Jeeves," I said, "those spats.""Yes, sir?""You really dislike them?""Intensely, sir.""You don't think time might induce you to change your views?""No, sir.""All right, then. Very well. Say no more. You may burn them.""Thank you very much, sir. I have already done so. Before breakfast this morning. A quiet grey is far more suitable, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Well, sir, I think it's just as well that they are being phased out of the war effort, and that we are now going to detonate the supernova bomb. In the very short time since we were released from the time envelope-''Get to the point''The robots aren't enjoying it, sir.''what''The war sir, it seems to be getting them down there's a certain world-weariness.''Well, that's all right, they're meant to be helping to destroy it.''yes, well they're finding it difficult, sir. They are afflicted with a certain lassitude. They're just finding it hard to get behind the job. They lack oomph.''What are you trying to say?''Well, I think they're very depressed about something, sir.''What on Krikkit are you talking about?''Well, in a few skirmishes they've recently, it seems that they go into battle, raise their weapons to fire and suddenly think, why bother? What, cosmically speaking, is it all about? And they just seem to get a little tired and a little grim.''And then what do they do?''Er, quadratic equations mostly, sir. Fiendishly difficult ones by all accounts. And then they sulk.''Sulk?''Yes, sir.''Whoever heard of a robot sulking?''I don't know, sir.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir, and I wouldn’t trust me one little inch, sir. I knows a bad one when I sees them. I have a mirror.”

“I am familiar with the name Bassington-Bassington, sir. There are three branches of the Bassington-Bassington family - the Shropshire Bassington-Bassingtons, the Hampshire Bassington-Bassingtons, and the Kent Bassington-Bassingtons.""England seems pretty well stocked up with Bassington-Bassingtons.""Tolerably so, sir.""No chance of a sudden shortage, I mean, what?""Presumably not, sir.""And what sort of a specimen is this one?""I could not say, sir, on such short acquaintance.""Will you give me a sporting two to one, Jeeves, judging from what you have seen of him, that this chappie is not a blighter or an excrescence?""No, sir. I should not care to venture such liberal odds.”

“Do you dance, Mr. Darcy?"Darcy: "Not if I can help it!"Sir William: "What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies."Mr. Darcy: "Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world; every savage can dance.”