-
To say that New York came up to its advance billing would be the baldest of understatements. Being there was like being in heaven without going to all the bother and expense of dying.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
One of the rummy things about Jeeves is that, unless you watch like a hawk, you very seldom see him come into a room.
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
-
Always get to the dialogue as soon as possible. I always feel the thing to go for is speed. Nothing puts the reader off more than a big slab of prose at the start.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
There came from without the hoof-beats of a galloping relative and Aunt Dahlia whizzed in.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
Stiffy was one of those girls who enjoy in equal quantities the gall of an army mule and the calm insouciance of a fish on a slab of ice.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I clutched at the brow. The mice in my interior had now got up an informal dance and were buck-and-winging all over the place like a bunch of Nijinskys.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I'm not absolutely certain of the facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare who says that it's always just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping.
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
-
A girl who bonnets a policeman with an ashcan full of bottles is obviously good wife-and-mother timber.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
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
-
I don't want to wrong anybody, so I won't go so far as to say that she actually wrote poetry, but her conversation, to my mind, was of a nature calculated to excite the liveliest of suspicions. Well, I mean to say, when a girl suddenly asks you out of a blue sky if you don't sometimes feel that the stars are God's daisy-chain, you begin to think a bit.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it.
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
-
Luck is a goddess not to be coerced and forcibly wooed by those who seek her favours. From such masterful spirits she turns away. But it happens sometimes that, if we put our hand in hers with the humble trust of a little child, she will have pity on us, and not fail us in our hour of need.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
I am told by those who know that there are six varieties of hangover-the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer and the Gremlin Boogie, and his manner suggested that he had got them all.
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
-
He looked haggard and careworn, like a Borgia who has suddenly remembered that he has forgotten to shove cyanide in the consommé, and the dinner-gong due any moment.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
But what is the love life of newts, if you boil it right down? Didn't you tell me once that they just waggled their tails at one another in the mating season?''Quite correct.' I shrugged my shoulders. 'Well all right, if they like it. But it's not my idea of molten passion.
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'm all for rational enjoyment, and so forth, but I think a fellow makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiled eggs at the electric fan
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 only thing that prevented a father's love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg.
P. G. Wodehouse
-
His aspect was that of one who has been looking for the leak in a gas pipe with a lighted candle.
P. G. Wodehouse
