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A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.

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
Away
Miserable
Lurks
Part
Misery
Dens
Self
Ideals
Emerges
Men
Hour
Subconscious
Life
Increase
Companion
Greater
Hidden
Deride
Dark
Ideal
Taunt
Hours
Humorous
Taunting

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As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight.
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In every romance you have to budget for the occasional dust-up.
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One of the drawbacks to life is that it contains moments when one is compelled to tell the truth.
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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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She looked as if she had been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say 'when.'
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Confidence, of course is an admirable asset to a golfer, but it should be an unspoken confidence. It is perilous to put it into speech. The gods of golf lie in wait to chasten the presumptious.
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Well, you know, there are limits to the sacred claims of friendship.
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-'What do ties matter, Jeeves, at a time like this?' There is no time, sir, at which ties do not matter
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She fitted into my biggest arm-chair as if it had been built round her by someone who knew they were wearing arm-chairs tight about the hips that season
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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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I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it.
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I may as well tell you, here and now, that if you are going about the place thinking things pretty, you will never make a modern poet. Be poignant, man, be poignant!
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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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At the age of eleven or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in the later seventies.
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What you want, my lad, and what you're going to get are two very different things.
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From my earliest years I had always wanted to be a writer. It was not that I had any particular message for humanity. I am still plugging away and not the ghost of one so far, so it begins to look as though, unless I suddenly hit mid-season form in my eighties, humanity will remain a message short.
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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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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 prone to set themselves up as critics and censors of the frail and erring human beings whose lot they share.
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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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