Quote

Love is a delicate plant that needs constant tending and nurturing, and this cannot be done by snorting at the adored object like a gas explosion and calling her friends lice.

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
Cannot
Gas
Done
Delicate
Snorting
Needs
Object
Lice
Love
Plant
Tending
Like
Calling
Adored
Constant
Explosion
Objects
Explosions
Friends
Nurturing

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It's a funny thing about looking for things. If you hunt for a needle in a haystack you don't find it. If you don't give a darn whether you ever see the needle or not it runs into you the first time you lean against the stack.
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The only thing that prevented a father's love from faltering was the fact that there was in his possession a photograph of himself at the same early age, in which he, too, looked like a homicidal fried egg.
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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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I shoved on a dressing-gown, and flew downstairs like a mighty, rushing wind.
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One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation.
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If men's minds were like dominoes, surely his would be the double blank.
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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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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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He looks much more like a lobster than most lobsters do.
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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.
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Warm-hearted! I should think he has to wear asbestos vests!
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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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The spine, and I do not attempt to conceal the fact, had become soluble, in the last degree.
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