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And as he, too, seemed disinclined for chit-chat, we stood for some moments like a couple of Trappist monks who have run into each other at the dog races.
P. G. Wodehouse -
It just showed once again that half the world doesn’t know how the other three quarters live.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
P. G. Wodehouse -
Has anybody ever seen a dramatic critic in the daytime? Of course not. They come out after dark, up to no good.
P. G. Wodehouse -
I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.
P. G. Wodehouse -
He was not a man who prattled readily, especially in a foreign tongue. He gave the impression that each word was excavated from his interior by some up-to-date process of mining.
P. G. Wodehouse -
Directing an austere look at Tubby’s receding back, she spoke in a cold crisp voice which sounded in the drowsy stillness like ice tinkling in a pitcher.
P. G. Wodehouse -
Aunt Agatha is like an elephant-not so much to look at, for in appearance she resembles more a well-bred vulture, but because she never forgets.
P. G. Wodehouse
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He had never acted in his life, and couldn't play the pin in Pinafore.
P. G. Wodehouse -
'I hate you, I hate you!' cried Madeline, a thing I didn't know anyone ever said except in the second act of a musical comedy.
P. G. Wodehouse -
If the prophet Job were to walk into the room at this moment, I could sit swapping hard-luck stories with him till bedtime.'
P. G. Wodehouse -
Attila the Hun might have broken off his engagement to her, but nobody except Attila the Hun, and he only on one of his best mornings.
P. G. Wodehouse -
of a character in 'The Man Who Gave Up Smoking' who is suffering from a hangover ... the noise of the cat stamping about in the passage outside caused him exquisite discomfort.
P. G. Wodehouse -
Blizzard was of the fine old school of butlers. His appearance suggested that for fifteen years he had not let a day pass without its pint of port. He radiated port and pop-eyed dignity. He had splay feet and three chins, and when he walked his curving waistcoat preceded him like the advance guard of some royal procession.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
‘And shove him into a dungeon with dripping walls and see to it that he is well gnawed by rats.’
P. G. Wodehouse -
We exchanged a meaning glance. Or, rather, two meaning glances, I giving him one and he giving me the other.
P. G. Wodehouse -
I was expecting Pop Bassett to give an impersonation of a bomb falling on an ammunition dump, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued to exhibit that sort of chilly stiffness which you see in magistrates when they’re fining people five quid for boyish peccadilloes.
P. G. Wodehouse -
The village of Market Blandings is one of those sleepy hamlets which modern progress has failed to touch... The church is Norman, and the intelligence of the majority of the natives palaeozoic.
P. G. Wodehouse -
In your walks about London you will sometimes see bent, haggard figures that look as if they had recently been caught in some powerful machinery. They are those fellows who got mixed up with Catsmeat when he was meaning well.
P. G. Wodehouse -
‘When I say 'mind,'’ said the blood relation, ‘I refer to the quarter-teaspoonful of brain which you might possibly find in her head if you sank an artesian well.’
P. G. Wodehouse
-
It was loud in spots and less loud in other spots, and it had that quality which I have noticed in all violin solos of seeming to last much longer than it actually did.
P. G. Wodehouse -
'Work, the what's-its-name of the thingummy and the thing-um-a-bob of the what d'you-call-it.'
P. G. Wodehouse -
He vanished abruptly, like an eel going into mud.
P. G. Wodehouse -
His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and his face had taken on the colour and expression of a devout tomato. I could see he loved like a thousand bricks.
P. G. Wodehouse