-
To persons of spirit like ourselves the only happy marriage is that which is based on a firm foundation of almost incessant quarrelling.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
She laughed - a solo effort. Nothing in the prevailing circumstances made me feel like turning it into a duet.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I wonder what Tommy Morris would have had to say to all this number 6-iron, number 12-iron, number 28-iron stuff. He probably wouldn't have said anything, just made one of those strange Scottish noises at the back of his throat like someone gargling.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
We Woosters freeze like the dickens when we seek sympathy and meet with cold reserve. "Nothing further Jeeves", I said with quiet dignity.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I suppose this was really the moment for embarking upon an impassioned defence of Boko, stressing his admirable qualities. Not being able to think of any, however, I remained silent.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
If it were not for quotations, conversations between gentlemen would consist of an endless series of 'what-ho!'s.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
'The fellow with a face rather like a walnut.'
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Unlike the male codfish which, suddenly finding itself the parent of three million five hundred thousand little codfish, cheerfully resolves to love them all, the British aristocracy is apt to look with a somewhat jaundiced eye on its younger sons.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
He expressed the opinion that the world was in a deplorable state. I said, 'Don't talk rot, old Tom Travers.' 'I am not accustomed to talk rot,' he said. 'Then, for a beginner,' I said, 'you do it dashed well.' And I think you will admit, boys and ladies and gentlemen, that that was telling him.'
P. G. Wodehouse
-
'Yes, sir,' said Jeeves in a low, cold voice, as if he had been bitten in the leg by a personal friend.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
To say that his conscience was clear would be inaccurate, for he did not have a conscience, but he had what was much better, an alibi...
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city's reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Intoxicated? The word did not express it by a mile. He was oiled, boiled, fried, plastered, whiffled, sozzled, and blotto.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Rex Stout's narrative and dialogue could not be improved, and he passes the supreme test of being rereadable. I don't know how many times I have reread the Wolfe stories, but plenty. I know exactly what is coming and how it is all going to end, but it doesn't matter. That's writing.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
A girl who bonnets a policeman with an ashcan full of bottles is obviously good wife-and-mother timber.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Psmith is the only thing in my literary career which was handed to me on a plate with watercress round it, thus enabling me to avoid the blood, sweat and tears inseparable from an author's life.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
In a series of events, all of which had been a bit thick, this, in his opinion, achieved the maximum of thickness.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
The storm is over, there is sunlight in my heart. I have a glass of wine and sit thinking of what has passed.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
He felt like a man who, chasing rainbows, has had one of them suddenly turn and bite him in the leg.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Cats, as a class, have never completely got over the snootiness caused by the fact that in ancient Egypt they were worshipped as gods. This makes them prone to set themselves up as critics and censors of the frail and erring human beings whose lot they share.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I was writing a story, 'The Artistic Career of Corky,' about two young men, Bertie Wooster and his friend Corky, getting into a lot of trouble, and neither of them had brains enough to get out of the trouble. I thought: Well, how can I get them out? And I thought: Suppose one of them had an omniscient valet?
P. G. Wodehouse
-
The Duke of Dunstable had one-way pockets. He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
...it has been well said that it is precisely these moments when we are feeling that ours is the world and everything that's in it that Fate selects for sneaking up on us with the rock in the stocking.
P. G. Wodehouse
