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There's a sort of wooly headed duckiness about you. If I wasn't so crazy about Marmaduke, I could really marry you Bertie.

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
Really
Bertie
Headed
Marry
Wasn
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What is Love compared with holing out before your opponent?
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I expect I shall feel better after tea.
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There is only one cure for gray hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.
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Sober or blotto, this is your motto: keep muddling through.
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She looked like something that might have occured to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.
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Golf, like the measles, should be caught young, for, if postponed to riper years, the results may be serious.
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There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship than a mutual taste in literature.
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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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I never was interested in politics. I'm quite unable to work up any kind of belligerent feeling. Just as I'm about to feel belligerent about some country I meet a decent sort of chap. We go out together and lose any fighting thoughts or feelings.
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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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There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.
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I pressed down the mental accelerator. The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.
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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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you ever have that feeling when you step down onto a footstep that isn't there?
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Whenever I have that sad, depressed feeling, I go out and kill a policeman.
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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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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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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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