Look at that arm." I pulled up my sleeve and showed a biceps so attenuated that when I flexed it it had the appearance of a string.

"A real blacksmith's biceps, eh, Warden?
Cast your eyes on my swelling chest.

Sandow had better look out for his laurels.

And my abdomen--why, man, I am growing so stout that my case will be a scandal of prison overfeeding.

Watch out, Warden, or you'll have the taxpayers after you." "Are you going to stop knuckle-talk ?" he roared.
"No, thanking you for your kind solicitude.