P. G. Wodehouse Quotes
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Even at normal times Aunt Dahlia's map tended a little towards the crushed strawberry. But never had I seen it take on so pronounced a richness as now. She looked like a tomato struggling for self-expression.
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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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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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Routine is the death to heroism.
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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 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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Oh, Bertie, if I ever called you a brainless poop who ought to be given a scholarship at some lunatic asylum, I take back the words.
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His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and his face had taken on the colour and expression of a devout tomato. I could see he loved like a thousand bricks.
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‘Do you know,’ said a thoughtful Bean, ‘I’ll bet that if all the girls Freddie Widgeon has loved were placed end to end-not that I suppose one could do it-they would reach half-way down Piccadilly.’‘Further than that,’ said the Egg. ‘Some of them were pretty tall.’
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There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.
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'I hate you, I hate you!' cried Madeline, a thing I didn't know anyone ever said except in the second act of a musical comedy.
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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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He vanished abruptly, like an eel going into mud.
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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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'Work, the what's-its-name of the thingummy and the thing-um-a-bob of the what d'you-call-it.'
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It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.
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He had never acted in his life, and couldn't play the pin in Pinafore.
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The village of Market Blandings is one of those sleepy hamlets which modern progress has failed to touch... The church is Norman, and the intelligence of the majority of the natives palaeozoic.
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He trusted neither of them as far as he could spit, and he was a poor spitter, lacking both distance and control.
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I wouldn't have said off-hand that I had a subconscious mind, but I suppose I must without knowing it, and no doubt it was there, sweating away diligently at the old stand, all the while the corporeal Wooster was getting his eight hours.
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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 agreed the situation was sticky. Indeed, offhand it was difficult to see how it could have been more glutinous.
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'She loves this newt-nuzzling blister.'