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I suppose he must have taken about a nine or something in hats. Shows what a rotten thing it is to let your brain develop too much.

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
Must
Rotten
Thing
Hats
Much
Suppose
Something
Develop
Nine
Brain
Taken
Shows

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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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That is life. Just one long succession of misunderstandings and rash acts and what not. Absolutely.
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No novelists any good except me. Sovietski -- yah! Nastikoff -- bah! I spit me of zem all. No novelists anywhere any good except me. P. G. Wodehouse and Tolstoi not bad. Not good, but not bad. No novelists any good except me.
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An apple a day, if well aimed, keeps the doctor away.
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It was loud in spots and less loud in other spots, and it had that quality which I have noticed in all violin solos of seeming to last much longer than it actually did.
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I pressed down the mental accelerator. The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.
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She could not have gazed at him with a more rapturous intensity if she had been a small child and he a saucer of ice cream.
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As a dancer, I out-Fred the nimblest Astaire.
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If men's minds were like dominoes, surely his would be the double blank.
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It is not the being paid money in advance that jars the sensitive artist: it is the having to work.
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He felt like a man who, chasing rainbows, has had one of them suddenly turn and bite him in the leg.
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It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky.
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But what is the love life of newts, if you boil it right down? Didn't you tell me once that they just waggled their tails at one another in the mating season?''Quite correct.' I shrugged my shoulders. 'Well all right, if they like it. But it's not my idea of molten passion.
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I clutched at the brow. The mice in my interior had now got up an informal dance and were buck-and-winging all over the place like a bunch of Nijinskys.
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Everything in life that’s any fun, as somebody wisely observed, is either immoral, illegal or fattening.
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Some time ago, he said, --how long it seems! -- I remember saying to a young friend of mine of the name of Spiller, 'Comrade Spiller, never confuse the unusual with the impossible.' It is my guiding rule in life.
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the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons
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Just another proof, of course, of what I often say - it takes all sorts to make a world.
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He looks much more like a lobster than most lobsters do.
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