From The Frightened Stiff, by Kelley Roos:

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"That furniture... that furniture..." Jeff drummed out the rhythm on the top of our desk. "Kaufman's furniture and his clothes hold the secret. The clothes could have been ghosted away easily enough... but not two rooms of furniture. Not without anyone noticing it. You can't put furniture between two slices of bread and..."

"Oh, stop saying furniture!"

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[Who knew that "straws" was a four-letter word!]

"Darling, this murder has you so stymied that you're clutching at you-know-whats! Frankly, straws!"

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["I won't spoil this with the context that made it make sense" dept.]

"Oh, be quiet! I wish this were Saturday night so you and Sir Thomas More could pal around together."

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Summer was still lingering in New York as if it couldn't make up its mind whether to go to Florida or California for the winter.

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"Do you mind if I don't complete my sentences for a while yet?"

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"And it's none of your business either. None of your damn business, I might add."

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"Moonlight will catch the raindrops as they fall from our sumac tree and change them into pearls. We'll stand enchanted. Or if you're too tired to stand enchanted, I'll drag out some chairs."

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[More "Who needs context?"]

For the next hour I drew imaginary rectangles in the air and shouted: "Change of address!" It didn't do any good.