Quotes from P.G. Wodehouse

She was standing by the barometer, which, if it had had an ounce of sense in its head, would have been pointing to 'Stormy' instead of 'Set Fair

He sallied forth, having told all those bally lies with the clear, blue, pop-eyed gaze of a young child.

On broader lines he's like those chappies who sit peering sadly over the marble battlements at the Pennsylvania Station in the place marked Inquiries. You know the Johnnies I mean. You go up to them and say: When's the next train for Melonsquashville, Tennessee? and they reply, without stopping to think, Two-forty-three, track ten, change at San Francisco. And they're right every time. Well, Jeeves gives you just the same impression of omniscience.

I have always had a suspicion that Aunt Dahlia, while invariably matey and bonhomous and seeming to take pleasure in my society, has a lower opinion of my intelligence than I quite like. Too often it is her practice to address me as 'fathead', and if I put forward any little thought or idea or fancy in her hearing it is apt to be greeted with the affectionate but jarring guffaw.

If this is Upper Silesia, what on earth must Lower Silesia be like?

You don't get any five shillings out of me.' 'Oh, all right.' He sat silent for a space. 'Things happen to guys that don't kick in their protection money,' he said dreamily.

Have you ever seen a man, woman, or child who wasn't eating an egg or just going to eat an egg or just coming away from eating an egg? I tell you, the good old egg is the foundation of daily life. Stop the first man you meet in the street and ask him which he'd sooner lose, his egg or his wife, and see what he says!

a chap who's supposed to stop chaps pinching things from chaps having a chap come along and pinch something from him.

This Miss Wooster that I knew married a man named Spenser. Was she any relation? She is my Aunt Agatha, I replied, and I spoke with a good deal of bitterness, trying to suggest by my manner that he was exactly the sort of man, in my opinion, who would know my Aunt Agatha.

A hoarse shout from within and a small china ornament whizzing past my head informed me that my old friend was at home.

On writing Jeeves and Wooster stories]: You tell yourself that you can take Jeeves stories or leave them alone, that one more can't possibly hurt you, because you know you can pull up whenever you feel like it, but it is merely wish-full thinking. The craving has gripped you and there is no resisting it. You have passed the point of no return.

Why has the car stopped? Ah! I said with manly frankness that became me well. There you have me. You see, I'm one of those birds who drive a lot but don't know the first thing about the works. The policy I pursue is to get aboard, prod the self-starter, and leave the rest to Nature. If anything goes wrong, I scream for an A.A. scout. It's a system that answers admirably as a rule, but on the present occasion it blew a fuse owing to the fact that there wasn't an A.A. scout within miles.

He was rigidly truthful, where the issue concerned only himself. Where it was a case of saving a friend, he was prepared to act in a manner reminiscent of an American expert witness.

Now look here, old friend, I said. I know your bally heart is broken and all that, and at some future time I shall be delighted to hear all about it, but - I didn't come to talk about that. No? Good egg! The past, said young Bingo, is dead. Let us say no more about it. Right-o! I have been wounded to the very depths of my soul, but don't speak about it. I won't. Ignore it. Forget it. Absolutely! I hadn't seen him so dashed reasonable for days.

No love could stand up against the sight of me in a sailor suit at the age of ten. I

His spirit was willing, but his will was not spirited.

fine figure of a young fellow as far northwards as the neck, but above that solid concrete.

Few things are so pleasant as the anticipation of them...

It's a mystery to me how kidnappers ever get caught.

The first thing to do,' said Psmith, 'is to ascertain that such a place as Clapham Common really exists. One has heard of it, of course, but has its existence ever been proved? I think not.

Sex attraction is so purely a question of the taste of the individual that the wise man never argues about it. He accepts its vagaries as part of the human mystery, and leaves it at that.

Come on, he said. Bring the poker. I brought the tongs as well. I felt like it.

Vladimir specialized in grey studies of hopeless misery, where nothing happened till page 380, when the muzhik decided to commit suicide.

I was conscious of a passing pang for the oyster world, feeling--and I think correctly--that life for these unfortunate bivalves must be one damn thing after another.