Quotes About Aunt

If there were more men like you, Mr. Wooster, London would be a better place. This was dead opposite to my Aunt Agatha's philosophy of life, she always having rather given me to understand that it is the presence in it of chappies like me that makes London more or less of a plague spot; but I let it go.

This was not Aunt Dahlia, my good and kindly aunt, but my Aunt Agatha, the one who chews broken bottles and kills rats with her teeth.

It isn't often that Aunt Dahlia lets her angry passions rise, but when she does, strong men climb trees and pull them up after them.

What I'm worrying about is what Tom is going to say when he starts talking. Uncle Tom? I wish there was something else you could call him except 'Uncle Tom,' Aunt Dahlia said a little testily. Every time you do it, I expect to see him turn black and start playing the banjo.

As a rule, you see, I'm not lugged into Family Rows. On the occasions when Aunt is calling Aunt like mastodons bellowing across premieval swamps and Uncle James's letter about Cousin Mabel's peculiar behaviour is being shot round the family circle ('Please read this carefully and send it on Jane') the clan has a tendency to ignore me. It's one of the advantages I get from being a bachelor - and, according to my nearest and dearest, practically a half-witted bachelor at that.

Aunt Agatha's demeanor now was rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the down express in the small of the back.

The Paddock was one of those medium-sized houses with a goodish bit of very tidy garden and a carefully rolled gravel drive curving past a shrubbery that looked as if it had just come back from the dry cleaner - the sort of house you take one look at and say to yourself, Somebody's aunt lives there.

You probably think that being a guest in your aunt's house I would hesitate to butter you all over the front lawn and dance on the fragments in hobnailed boots, but you are mistaken. It would be a genuine pleasure. By an odd coincidence I brought a pair of hobnailed boots with me!' So saying, and recognising a good exit line when he saw one, he strode out, and after an interval of tense meditation I followed him. (Spode to Wooster)

Aunt Agatha is my tough aunt, the one who eats broken bottles and conducts human sacrifices by the light of the full moon.

Yes, by damn! It's too bad! cried the whiskered marvel. You careless old woman! You give my hotel bad names, would you or wasn't it? Tomorrow you leave my hotel, by great Scotland! ... 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.

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 you ask my Aunt Agatha she will tell you — in fact, she is quite likely to tell you even if you don't ask her — that I am a vapid and irreflective chump. Barely sentient, was the way she once described me: and I'm not saying that in a broad, general sense she isn't right.

England is a jolly sight too small for anyone to live in with Aunt Agatha, if she's really on the warpath.

Your aunt is the dearest woman in the world, and nobody could be fonder of her than I am, but I sometimes find her presence … what is the word I want … restrictive. She holds, as you know, peculiar views on the subject of my running around loose in London, as she puts it, and this prevents me fulfilling myself.

A few moments later the man was with us, looking so brainy and intelligent that my heart leaped up as if I had beheld a rainbow in the sky. 'Oh, Jeeves,' I yipped. 'Oh, Jeeves,' yipped Aunt Dahlia, dead heating with me.

She seemed glad to see me. In fact, she actually said she was glad to see me – a statement no other aunt on the list would have committed herself to, the customary reaction of these near and dear ones to the spectacle of Bertram arriving for a visit being a sort of sick horror

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And until tonight I had always felt that there was a lot in it. I had never scorned a woman myself, but Pongo Twistleton once scorned an aunt of his, flatly refusing to meet her son Gerald at Paddington and give him lunch and see him off to school at Waterloo, and he never heard the end of it.

Aunt Beulah could hear the dust moats collide in a sunbeam.

I can't begin to imagine the shock of having a body fall out of the fireplace. And your aunt's fireplace, at that. She was a vegan, for heaven's sake. She killed him, Mom. She didn't eat him.

What constitutes a problem is not the thing, or the environment where we find the thing, but the conjunction of the two; something unexpected in a usual place (our favourite aunt in our favourite poker parlour) or something usual in an unexpected place (our favourite poker in our favourite aunt).

He's nearly a man, Faldor explained to Aunt Pol, and a man always has need of a good knife.

Matilda told such dreadful lies,It made one gasp and stretch one's eyes;Her aunt, who, from her earliest youth,Had kept a strict regard for truth,Attempted to believe Matilda:The effort very nearly killed her.

In the kitchen Valeria was making breakfast, his aunt never made breakfast even though Carlo insisted for years that a hotel hoping to cater to French and Americans must offer breakfast. "It's a lazy man's meal., she always said. What laggard expects to eat before doing any work?

Don't come near the flat!' 'But it's my own flat.' 'I can't help that. Aunt Isabel doesn't like you. She asked me what you did for a living. And when I told her you didn't do anything she said she thought as much, and that you were a typical specimen of a useless and decaying aristocracy. So if you think you have made a hit, forget it.