"I turned and marched out, chin up, with my ego patting me on the back."

***

"You mean--she--they--it--we"

"That's one way of putting it."

***

"No, thank you. Beer likes me, but I don't like it."

***

I have never seen a balder man, and his hairless freckled dome had a peculiar attraction. It was covered with tiny drops of sweat, and nothing ever happened to them. He didn't touch them with a handkerchief, they didn't get larger or merge or trickle, and they didn't dwindle. They just stood pat. There was nothing repulsive about them, but after ten minutes or so the suspense was quite a strain.

***

If I had actually seen the last of Nero Wolfe, it was a damn sad day for me, there were no two ways about that, and if I got a lump in my throat and somebody walked in I would just as soon show him the lump as not. But what if it was Wolfe himself who walked in? That was the trouble. Damned if I was going to work up a fancy lump and then have him suddenly appear and start crabbing about something.

***

“You thought it would be funny to have a talk with Rackham, and it may be all right this time, but some day something that you think is funny [ . . .]”

Only after he had gone did it occur to me that that wouldn’t prove it wasn’t funny.