-
Dedication: To my daughter Leonora without whose never-failing sympathy and encouragement this book would have been finished in half the time.
-
Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is best not to stir them.
-
There is only one cure for gray hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.
-
It was a confusion of ideas between him and one of the lions he was hunting in Kenya that had caused A. B. Spottsworth to make the obituary column. He thought the lion was dead, and the lion thought it wasn't.
-
In one second, without any previous training or upbringing, he had become the wettest man in Worcestershire.
-
’You know your Shelley, Bertie!’‘Oh, am I?’
-
Never put anything on paper, my boy, and never trust a man with a small black moustache.
-
It is never difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman with a grievance and a ray of sunshine.
-
She snorted with a sudden violence which twenty-four hours earlier would have unmanned me completely. Even in my present tolerably robust condition, it affected me like one of those gas explosions which slay six.
-
'Have you ever seen Spode eat asparagus?'No.'Revolting. It alters one's whole conception of Man as Nature's last word.'
-
Golf... is the infallible test. The man who can go into a patch of rough alone, with the knowledge that only God is watching him, and play his ball where it lies, is the man who will serve you faithfully and well.
-
A sort of gulpy, gurgly, plobby, squishy, wofflesome sound, like a thousand eager men drinking soup in a foreign restaurant.
-
I started back to the house, and in the drive I met Jeeves. He was at the wheel of Stiffy's car. Beside him, looking like a Scotch elder rebuking sin, was the dog Bartholomew.
-
I had not failed to interpret the significance of that dark frown, that bitten lip and those flashing eyes, nor the way the willowy figure had quivered, indicating, unless she had caught a chill, that she was as sore as a sunburned neck.
-
Gussie, a glutton for punishment, stared at himself in the mirror.
-
I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.
-
I love writing. I never feel really comfortable unless I am either actually writing or have a story going. I could not stop writing.
-
There is enough sadness in life without having fellows like Gussie Fink-Nottle going about in sea boots.
-
He was white and shaken, like a dry martini.
-
Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character.
-
The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.
-
‘Oh Brancepeth,’ said the girl, her voice trembling, ‘why haven’t you any money? If only you had the merest pittance - enough for a flat in Mayfair and a little weekend place in the country somewhere and a couple of good cars and a villa in the South of France and a bit of trout fishing on some decent river, I would risk all for love.’
-
Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
-
Her pupils were at once her salvation and her despair. They gave her the means of supporting life, but they made life hardly worth supporting.