Quotes from p g wodehouse

She had a laugh like a squadron of cavalry charging over a tin bridge.

So!' he said, at length, and it came as a complete surprise to me that fellows ever really do say 'So!'. I had always thought it was just a thing you read in books.

Presently, I was aware that Jeeves was with me. I hadn't heard him come in, but you often don't with Jeeves. He just streams silently from spot A to spot B, like some gas.

It is not too much to say I was piqued to the tonsils.

I've always treated the man with unremitting kindness, and if he wont do a little thing like this for me, I'll kick his spine through his hat.

Well, you've taken a weight off my mind." "A mind, I should imagine, scarcely constructed to bear great weights.

though the conversation always touched an exceptionally high level of brilliance, there was apt to be a good deal of sugar thrown about.

I gave it up. The man annoyed me. I hadn't the slightest objection to his spending his time planning massacres for the bourgeoisie, but I was dashed if I could see why he couldn't do it with a bright and cheerful smile.

I turned round and Jeeves shied like a startled mustang.

She is a waitress at his lordships club. My God! The Proletariat! The lower middle classes, sir. Well, yes, by stretching it a bit, perhaps.

The real objection to the great majority of cats is their insufferable air of superiority. Cats, as a class, have never completely got over the snootiness caused by the fact that in Ancient Egypt they were worshipped as gods. This makes them too prone to set themselves up as critics and censors of the frail and erring human beings whose lot they share.

He seemed a little uneasy, and he welcomed me with something of the gratitude of the shipwrecked mariner who sights a sail.

And, as I mused, the years fell away, hair sprouted on the vast steppes of my head, where never hair has been almost within the memory of man.

A cad of the lowest order with a soul as black as his fingernails.

London late at night -- or even in the daytime, for that matter -- is no place for a man in scarlet tights.

You can't be too careful how you stir up a policeman.

The general effect was rather as if I had swallowed six-pennorth of dynamite and somebody touched it off inside me.

I drew a deepish breath.

A moment before this voice spoke, Lord Emsworth had been smirking. He now congealed, and the smile passed from his lips like breath off a razor, to be succeeded be a tense look of anxiety and alarm.

The Soul's Awakening expression on his face became intensified. Before my revolted eyes Augustus Fink-Nottle definitely smirked.

Tuppy wiped a fair portion of Hampshire out of his eye, and peered round him in a dazed kind of way...

Roderick Spode is the founder of the Saviours of Britain, a fascist organisation better know as the 'Black Shorts'... When you say 'shorts' mean 'shirts', of course. No. By the time Spode formed his association, there were no shirts left. He and his adherents wear black shorts. Footer bags, you mean? Yes. How perfectly foul.

Some girls are like ants in your pants

The cells smell is a great feature of French prisons. Ours in No.44 was one of those fine broad-shouldered up and coming young smells, which stand on both feet and look the world in the eye. We became very fond and proud of it.