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Success comes to a writer as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.
P. G. Wodehouse
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P. G. Wodehouse
Age: 93 †
Born: 1881
Born: January 1
Died: 1975
Died: January 1
Humorist
Librettist
Lyricist
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Songwriter
Writer
Guildford
Surrey
UK
Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
P.G. Wodehouse
Always
Winning
Congratulations
Success
Gradually
Comes
Shock
Back
Height
Look
Rule
Looks
Realize
Climbed
Writing
Writer
Comeback
Something
Realizing
Heights
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn't been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them.
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It was a nasty look. It made me feel as if I were something the dog had brought in and intended to bury later on, when he had time.
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The only thing that prevented a father's love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg.
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The spine, and I do not attempt to conceal the fact, had become soluble, in the last degree.
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To find a man's true character, play golf with him.
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Mr Howard Saxby, literary agent, was knitting a sock. He knitted a good deal, he would tell you if you asked him, to keep himself from smoking, adding that he also smoked a good deal to keep himself from knitting.
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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.
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It was one of those parties where you cough twice before you speak and then decide not to say it after all.
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Flowers are happy things.
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There's too much of that where-every-prospect-pleases-and-only-man-is-vile stuff buzzing around for my taste.
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It is the bungled crime that brings remorse.
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I shoved on a dressing-gown, and flew downstairs like a mighty, rushing wind.
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I am told by those who know that there are six varieties of hangover-the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer and the Gremlin Boogie, and his manner suggested that he had got them all.
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As a child of eight Mr. Trout had once kissed a girl of six under the mistletoe at a Christmas party, but there his sex life had come to abrupt halt.
P. G. Wodehouse
As a dancer, I out-Fred the nimblest Astaire.
P. G. Wodehouse
Luck is a goddess not to be coerced and forcibly wooed by those who seek her favours. From such masterful spirits she turns away. But it happens sometimes that, if we put our hand in hers with the humble trust of a little child, she will have pity on us, and not fail us in our hour of need.
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She looked as if she had been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say 'when.'
P. G. Wodehouse
the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons
P. G. Wodehouse
I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
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It was one of those days you sometimes get latish in the autumn when the sun beams, the birds toot, and there is a bracing tang in the air that sends the blood beetling briskly through the veins.
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