P. G. Wodehouse Quotes
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of a character in 'The Man Who Gave Up Smoking' who is suffering from a hangover ... the noise of the cat stamping about in the passage outside caused him exquisite discomfort.
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We exchanged a meaning glance. Or, rather, two meaning glances, I giving him one and he giving me the other.
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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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His whole aspect was that of a man who has unexpectedly been struck by lightning.
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I turned to Aunt Agatha, whose demeanour was now rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the down express in the small of the back.
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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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He resembled a minor prophet who had been hit behind the ear with a stuffed eel-skin.
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She fitted into my biggest armchair as if it had been built round her by someone who knew they were wearing armchairs tight about the hips that season.
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He wore the unmistakable look of a man about to be present at a row between women, and only a wet cat in a strange backyard bears itself with less jauntiness than a man faced by such a prospect.
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She had a beaky nose, tight thin lips, and her eye could have been used for splitting logs in the teak forests of Borneo.
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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.’
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Aunt Agatha is like an elephant-not so much to look at, for in appearance she resembles more a well-bred vulture, but because she never forgets.
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At this moment, the laurel bush, which had hitherto not spoken, said 'Psst!'
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Dark hair fell in a sweep over his forehead. He looked like a man who would write vers libre, as indeed he did.
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And as he, too, seemed disinclined for chit-chat, we stood for some moments like a couple of Trappist monks who have run into each other at the dog races.
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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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If the prophet Job were to walk into the room at this moment, I could sit swapping hard-luck stories with him till bedtime.'
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He was a long, stripy policeman, who flowed out of his uniform at odd spots, as if Nature, setting out to make a constable, had had a good deal of material left over which she had not liked to throw away but hardly seemed able to fit into the general scheme.
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I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.
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...there was practically one handwriting common to the whole school when it came to writing lines. It resembled the movements of a fly that had fallen into an ink-pot, and subsequently taken a little brisk exercise on a sheet of foolscap by way of restoring the circulation.
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He had never acted in his life, and couldn't play the pin in Pinafore.
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Directing an austere look at Tubby’s receding back, she spoke in a cold crisp voice which sounded in the drowsy stillness like ice tinkling in a pitcher.
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In build and appearance, Tuppy somewhat resembles a bulldog, and his aspect now was that of one of these fine animals who has just been refused a slice of cake.
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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.