"The secret vice! A whole new universe! Buttonholes! The manufacturers can't make ready-made suits with permanent buttonholes on the sleeves. The principle of ready-made clothes is that each suit on the rack can be made to fit about four different shapes of men. They makes the sleeves long and then the store has a tailor, an unintelligible little man who does alterations, chop them off to fit men with shorter arms and move the buttons up. 

And suddenly Ross found that as soon as you noticed this much, you started noticing the rest of it. Yes! the scyes, for example. The scyes! Imagine somebody like Ross knowing all the esoteric terminology. Ross is a good old boy, for god sake. The scyes! The scyes are the armholes in a coat. In ready-made clothes, they make the armholes about the size of the Holland Tunnel. Anybody can get in these coats. Jim Bradford, the former heavyweight weight-lifting champion, who has arms the size of a Chapman Valve fire hydrant, can put on the same coat as some poor bastard who is mooning away the afternoon at IBM shuffling memos and dreaming of going home and having a drink and playing with the baby..."

"The Secret Vice" The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, Tom Wolfe

dog-eared

"He had little of small change of conversation and rarely rose to reach down one of those ready-made forms and phrases that drape, whether fresh or frayed, the hooks and pegs of the general wardrobe of talk--that repository in which alone so many persons qualify for the discipline of society, as supernumerary actors prepare, amid a like provision, for the ordeal of the footlights."

"Well, it's just the sort of kindness," she smiled, "the kindness that costs nothing, the kindness you show to a child. It's as if you rather looked down on him. It's as if you don't respect him."

"Respect him? Why, respect's a big feeling. But I guess I do." 

"You guess? If you're not sure, it's no respect." 

The American, Henry James