Quotes About Manners

When you call me that, smile.

Who is he? Nobody! cried Molly, with indignation. Then you shouldn't answer so loud, said the great-aunt

Jeeves, whatever his moral defects, would never go about in skirts calling me Bertie.

Lord Emsworth belonged to the people-like-to-be-left-alone-to-amuse-themselves-when-they-come-to-a-place school of hosts

dont be an ass-hat!!

I mean, if you're asking a fellow to come out of a room so that you can dismember him with a carving knife, it's absurd to tack a 'sir' on to every sentence. The two things don't go together.

Mr Beach was too well bred to be inquisitive, but his eyebrows here not. 'Ah!' he said. '?', cried the eyebrows. '? ? ?' Ashe ignored the eyebrows. ... Mr Beach's eyebrows were still mutely urging him to reveal all, but Ashe directed his gaze at that portion of the room which Mr Beach did not fill. He was hanged if he was going to let himself be hypnotized by a pair of eyebrows into incriminating himself.

Beginning with a critique of my own limbs, which she said, justly enough, were nothing to write home about, this girl went on to dissect my manners, morals, intellect, general physique, and method of eating asparagus with such acerbity that by the time she had finished the best you could say of Bertram was that, so far as was known, he had never actually committed murder or set fire to an orphan asylum.

How does he look, Jeeves? Sir? What does Mr Bassington-Bassington look like? It is hardly my place, sir, to criticize the facial peculiarities of your friends.

The exquisite code of politeness of the Woosters prevented me clipping her one on the ear-hole, but I would have given a shilling to be able to do it. There seemed to me something deliberately fat-headed in the way she persisted in missing the gist.

We do not tell old friends beneath our roof-tree that they are an offence to the eyesight.

In his normal state he would not strike a lamb. I've known him to do it' 'Do what?' 'Not strike lambs

You can't tell me if there are any special subjects to avoid when talking to him, can you?' 'Special subjects?' 'Well, you know how it is with a stranger. You say it's a fine day, and he goes all white and tense, because you've reminded him that it was on a fine day that his wife eloped with the chauffeur.

Aunts Aren't Gentlemen

One more toot--just one single, solitary suggestion of the faintest shadow or suspicion of anything remotely approaching a toot--and may the Lord have mercy on your soul.

Science, with a thousand triumphs to her credit, has not yet succeeded in discovering the correct reply for a young man to make who finds himself in the appalling position of being apologized to by a pretty girl.

Well, if he comes when I'm out, tell him to wait. And now, Jeeves, mes gants, mon chapeau, et le whangee de monsieur. I must be popping.

I don't mind people talking rot in my presence, but it must not be utter rot.

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.

Well, everybody seems to be doing it, I said, so I suppose I had better make the thing unanimous. Here's a fiver. Why, thank you, sir. This is extremely - It won't seem much compared with these vast sums you've been acquiring. Oh, I assure you, sir. And I don't know why I'm giving it to you. No, sir. Still, there it is. Thank you very much, sir.

You don't need a hat to tax a man with stealing a pig,' said the Hon. Galahad, who was well versed in the manners and rules of good society.

What would Jeeves do that for? It struck me as rummy, too.... I mean to say, it's nothing to Jeeves what sort of a face you have! No! said Cyril. He spoke a little coldly, I fancied. I don't know why. Well, I'll be popping. Toodle-oo!

Jeeves, of course, is a gentleman's gentlemen, not a butler, but if the call comes, he can buttle with the best of them.

Yes, Jeeves? The man had materialized on the carpet. Absolutely noiseless, as usual. A note for you, sir. A note for me, Jeeves? A note for you, sir. From whom, Jeeves? From Miss Bassett, sir. From whom, Jeeves? From Miss Bassett, sir. From Miss Bassett, Jeeves? From Miss Bassett, sir. At this point, Aunt Dahlia begged us for heaven's sake to cut out the cross-talk vaudeville stuff. Always willing to oblige, I dismissed Jeeves with a nod, and he flickered for a moment and was gone.