From There Was a Crooked Man, by Kelley Roos:

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"Even his typewriter complains. It writes poison pen letters to Bruce's editor all by itself."

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[A running joke between two characters!]

She cleared her throat and affected the solemn whisper of a librarian. "How would you like your books, madame?"

"Rare!" I shouted, and we both laughed raucously.

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He didn't take courses at Columbia's Graduate School; he snatched them. I was sure that Vincent was responsible for at least fifty per cent of the absent-mindedness of America's professors.

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"Whoa, Professor, there is no time for maintaining, holding or contending."

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[A genericized hairdresser.]

Her hair at its worst would have inspired the most blasé Antoine or Antoinette to greater glory.

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"Mr. Girard, from now on...not a word. Even if I ask you a question, don't answer me."

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Garbed in a faded but not completely subdued dressing-gown, he was enjoying a large thick cigar.

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"What are you carrying around an empty box for?"

"It's lighter when it's empty."

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"He doesn't enjoy being a Huber. He wishes his name were MacClump or Squiffen."

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"Grodek is a city in Poland. And crossword puzzles."