The Code of the Woosters

by P.G. Wodehouse

I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled,

It was as if Nature had intended to make a gorilla, and had changed its mind at the last moment.

The whole situation seemed to me essentially one of those where you just clench the hands and roll the eyes mutely up to heaven and then start a new life and try to forget.

She went on, looking at me as if I were a rabbit which she was expecting shortly to turn into a gnome.

Stiffy’s map, as a rule, tends to be rather grave and dreamy, giving the impression that she is thinking deep, beautiful thoughts. Quite misleading, of course. I don’t suppose she would recognise a deep, beautiful thought, if you handed it to her on a skewer with tartare sauce.