P. G. Wodehouse Quotes
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Many a man may look respectable, and yet be able to hide at will behind a spiral staircase.
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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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The cup of tea on arrival at a country house is a thing which, as a rule, I particularly enjoy. I like the crackling logs, the shaded lights, the scent of buttered toast, the general atmosphere of leisured cosiness.
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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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At five minutes to eleven on the morning named he was at the station, a false beard and spectacles shielding his identity from the public eye. If you had asked him he would have said that he was a Scotch business man. As a matter of fact, he looked far more like a motor-car coming through a haystack.
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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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She could not have gazed at him with a more rapturous intensity if she had been a small child and he a saucer of ice cream.
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I don’t say I’ve got much of a soul, but, such as it is, I’m perfectly satisfied with the little chap. I don’t want people fooling about with it. ‘Leave it alone,’ I say. ‘Don’t touch it. I like it the way it is.’
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Oofy, thinking of the tenner he had given Freddie, writhed like an electric fan.
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However devoutly a girl may worship the man of her choice, there always comes a time when she feels an irresistible urge to haul off and let him have it in the neck.
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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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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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Confidence, of course is an admirable asset to a golfer, but it should be an unspoken confidence. It is perilous to put it into speech. The gods of golf lie in wait to chasten the presumptious.
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I was expecting Pop Bassett to give an impersonation of a bomb falling on an ammunition dump, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued to exhibit that sort of chilly stiffness which you see in magistrates when they’re fining people five quid for boyish peccadilloes.
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'There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, 'Do trousers matter?''‘The mood will pass, sir.’
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Mere abuse is no criticism.
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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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Routine is the death to heroism.
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He had never acted in his life, and couldn't play the pin in Pinafore.
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Blizzard was of the fine old school of butlers. His appearance suggested that for fifteen years he had not let a day pass without its pint of port. He radiated port and pop-eyed dignity. He had splay feet and three chins, and when he walked his curving waistcoat preceded him like the advance guard of some royal procession.
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As a rule, from what I've observed, the American Captain of Industry doesn't do anything out of business hours. When he has put the cat out and locked up the office for the night, he just relapses into a state of coma from which he emerges only to start being a Captain of Industry again.
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If there is one thing I dislike, it is the man who tries to air his grievances when I wish to air mine.
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...his head emerged cautiously, like that of a snail taking a look around after a thunderstorm.
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At this moment, the laurel bush, which had hitherto not spoken, said 'Psst!'