"Jim, you'd better confine yourself to the writing of encyclopedias and not meddle with the buzz-saw of--of sharp retort." "He appears to have made it that time," said Whittlesy.
"Now, Whit, it may behoove some men to speak, but it doesn't behoove you.

Remember that I hold you in the hollow of my hand." "Let us have the story," said Henry.
"But is the laborer worthy of his hire--is there anything in it ?" "Yes, ring the bell." "That's the stuff." "Flummers," some one remarked, a few moments later, "I don't think that I ever saw you drunk." Flummers tapped his forehead and replied: "The brain predominates the jag.

But I must gather up the flapping ends of my discourse.

I will begin again." "Are you going to repeat that dose of bloody rot ?" Mortimer asked.
"Jim, I pity you.

I pity any man that can't see a point when it's held under his nose." "Or smell one when it's held under his eye," someone suggested.
"You fellows are pretty gay," said Flummers.