I have spoken earlier of the tendency of the spirit of the Woosters to rise when crushed to earth, but there is a limit, and this limit had now been reached. At these frightful words, the spirit of the Woosters felt as if it had been sat on by an elephant. And not one of your steamlined, schoolgirl-figured elephants, either. A big, fat one.
(from The Mating Season, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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