P. G. Wodehouse Quotes
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As is so often the case with butlers, there was a good deal of Beach. Julius Caesar, who liked to have men about him who were fat, would have taken to him at once. He was a man who had made two chins grow where only one had been before, and his waistcoat swelled like the sail of a racing yacht.
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Though never for an instant faltering in my opinion that Augustus Fink-Nottle was Nature's final word in cloth-headed guffins, I liked the man, wished him well.
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Love has had a lot of press-agenting from the oldest times; but there are higher, nobler things than love.
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'Didn't Frankenstein get married?'Did he?' said Eggy. 'I don't know. I never met him. Harrow man, I expect.'
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She gave me another of those long keen looks, and I could see that she was again asking herself if her favourite nephew wasn't steeped to the tonsils in the juice of the grape.
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On the cue 'five aunts' I had given at the knees a trifle, for the thought of being confronted with such a solid gaggle of aunts, even if those of another, was an unnerving one. Reminding myself that in this life it is not aunts that matter, but the courage that one brings to them, I pulled myself together.
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A young man with dark circles under his eyes was propping himself up against a penny-in-the-slot machine. An undertaker, passing at that moment, would have looked at this young man sharply, scenting business. So would a buzzard.
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We do not tell old friends beneath our roof-tree that they are an offence to the eyesight.
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It was one of those cold, clammy, accusing sort of eyes-the kind that makes you reach up to see if your tie is straight: and he looked at me as I were some sort of unnecessary product which Cuthbert the Cat had brought in after a ramble among the local ash-cans.
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I don’t suppose she would recognize a deep, beautiful thought if you handed it to her on a skewer with tartare sauce.
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'Jeeves,' I said, and I am free to admit that in my emotion I bleated like a lamb drawing itself to the attention of the parent sheep, 'what the dickens is all this?'
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Before my eyes he wilted like a wet sock.
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This done, he felt a little-not much, but a little-better. Before, he would have gladly murdered Beach and James and danced on their graves. Now, he would have been satisfied with straight murder.
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Success comes to a writer as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.
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A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn't been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them.
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‘Are you sure?’ I said that sure was just what I wasn’t anything but.
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Aunt Agatha, who eats broken bottles and wears barbed wire next to the skin.
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I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
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'And, anyway, no matter how much you may behave like the deaf adder of Scripture which, as you are doubtless aware, the more one piped, the less it danced, or words to that effect, I shall carry on as planned. '
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He was a tubby little chap who looked as if he had been poured into his clothes and had forgotten to say 'when!'
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He then gave a hideous laugh and added that, if anybody was interested in his plans, he was going to join the Foreign Legion, that cohort of the damned in which broken men may toil and die and dying, forget. ‘Beau Widgeon?’ said the Egg, impressed. ‘What ho!’
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Why don't you get a haircut? You look like a chrysanthemum.
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Like so many substantial citizens of America, he had married young and kept on marrying, springing from blonde to blonde like the chamois of the Alps leaping from crag to crag.
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Golf, like measles, should be caught young.