P. G. Wodehouse Quotes
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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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Has anybody ever seen a dramatic critic in the daytime? Of course not. They come out after dark, up to no good.
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‘Don't you like this hat?‘‘No, sir.‘‘Well, I do,‘ I replied rather cleverly, and went out with it tilted just that merest shade over the left eye which makes all the difference.
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I started violently, as if some unseen hand had goosed me.
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’You must remember, Father,’ said Mavis, in a voice which would have had an Eskimo slapping his ribs and calling for the steam-heat, ‘that this girl was probably very pretty. So many of these New York girls are. That would, of course, explain Frederick's behaviour.’
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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.
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'Elementary, my dear Watson, elementary,' murmured Psmith. (Earlier usage of the precise words 'Elementary, my dear Watson' has been found in the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.)
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Love is a delicate plant that needs constant tending and nurturing, and this cannot be done by snorting at the adored object like a gas explosion and calling her friends lice.
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I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
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It was my Uncle George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought.
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She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.
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I laughed derisively. "For goodness' sake, don't start gargling now. This is serious." "I was laughing." "Oh, were you? Well, I'm glad to see you taking it in this merry spirit." "Derisively," I explained.
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Whenever I meet Ukridge’s Aunt Julia I have the same curious illusion of having just committed some particularly unsavoury crime and-what is more-of having done it with swollen hands, enlarged feet, and trousers bagging at the knee on a morning when I had omitted to shave.
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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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For an author Jerry Vail was rather nice-looking, most authors, as is widely known, resembling in appearance the more degraded types of fish, unless they look like birds, when they could pass as vultures and no questions asked.
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‘Alf Todd,’ said Ukridge, soaring to an impressive burst of imagery, ‘has about as much chance as a one-armed blind man in a dark room trying to shove a pound of melted butter into a wild-cat’s ear with a red-hot needle.’
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I don't know if you have ever seen a tiger of the jungle drawing a deep breath preparatory to doing a swan dive and landing with both the feet on the backbone of one of the minor fauna. Probably not, nor, as a matter of fact, have I.
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’Oh, yes, he thinks a lot of you. I remember his very words. 'Mr Wooster, miss' he said 'is, perhaps, mentally somewhat negligible but he has a heart of gold’
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Breakfast had been prepared by the kitchen maid, an indifferent performer who had used the scorched earth policy on the bacon again.
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It just showed once again that half the world doesn’t know how the other three quarters live.
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There are girls, few perhaps but to be found if one searches carefully, who when their advice is ignored and disaster ensues, do not say 'I told you so'. Mavis was not of their number.
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It has been well said that an author who expects results from a first novel is in a position similar to that of a man who drops a rose petal down the Grand Canyon of Arizona and listens for the echo.
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His whole aspect was that of a man who has unexpectedly been struck by lightning.
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‘Suppose your Aunt Dahlia read in the paper one morning that you were going to be shot at sunrise.’‘I couldn’t be, I’m never up so early.’