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I pressed down the mental accelerator. The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.

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
Accelerator
Lemon
Fiercely
Lemons
Pressed
Mental
Idea
Throbbed
Ideas

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Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy's Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day's work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city's reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.
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His whole aspect was that of a man who has unexpectedly been struck by lightning.
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...with each new book of mine I have always the feeling that this time I have picked a lemon in the garden of literature.
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She looked away. Her attitude seemed to suggest that she had finished with him, and would be obliged if somebody would come and sweep him up.
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There are three things in the world that he held in the smallest esteem - slugs, poets and caddies with hiccups.
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In his normal state he would not strike a lamb. I’ve known him to do it’ ‘Do what?’ ‘Not strike lambs
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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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It was one of those cases where you approve the broad, general principle of an idea but can't help being in a bit of a twitter at the prospect of putting it into practical effect. I explained this to Jeeves, and he said much the same thing had bothered Hamlet.
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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.
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Dark hair fell in a sweep over his forehead. He looked like a man who would write vers libre, as indeed he did.
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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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What is Love compared with holing out before your opponent?
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He looks much more like a lobster than most lobsters do.
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Psmith is the only thing in my literary career which was handed to me on a plate with watercress round it, thus enabling me to avoid the blood, sweat and tears inseparable from an author's life.
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Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
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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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the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons
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I'm not absolutely certain of the facts, but I rather fancy it's Shakespeare who says that it's always just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping.
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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 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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