Success comes to a writer as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.

The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.

Success comes to a writer, as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.

Why don't you get a haircut? You look like a chrysanthemum.

He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.

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