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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
Pressed
Mental
Idea
Ideas
Throbbed
Accelerator
Lemon
Fiercely
Lemons
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
I don't want to seem always to be criticizing your methods of voice production, Jeeves, I said, but I must inform you that that 'Well, sir' of yours is in many respects fully as unpleasant as your 'Indeed, sir?
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As a dancer, I out-Fred the nimblest Astaire.
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Lady Glossip: Mr. Wooster, how would you support a wife? Bertie Wooster: Well, I suppose it depends on who's wife it was, a little gentle pressure beneath the elbow while crossing a busy street usually fits the bill.
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And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.
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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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Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is wiser not to stir them.
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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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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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My motto is 'Love and let love' - with the one stipulation that people who love in glass-houses should breathe on the windows.
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What ho! I said. What ho! said Motty. What ho! What ho! What ho! What ho! What ho! After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.
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When it comes to letting the world in on the secrets of his heart, he has about as much shrinking reticence as a steam calliope.
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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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What you want, my lad, and what you're going to get are two very different things.
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This is peculiarly an age in which each of us may, if he do but search diligently, find the literature suited to his mental powers.
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Routine is the death to heroism.
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I shoved on a dressing-gown, and flew downstairs like a mighty, rushing wind.
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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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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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It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.
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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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