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Well, there it is. That's Jeeves. Where others merely smite the brow and clutch the hair, he acts. Napoleon was the same.
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
Acts
Merely
Hair
Others
Smite
Wells
Napoleon
Well
Brow
Clutch
Brows
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
I laughed derisively. For goodness' sake, don't start gargling now. This is serious. I was laughing. Oh, were you? Well, I'm glad to see you taking it in this merry spirit. Derisively, I explained.
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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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She gave me another of those long keen looks, and I could see that she was again asking herself if her favourite nephew wasn't steeped to the tonsils in the juice of the grape.
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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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I pity the shrimp that matches wits with you Jeeves
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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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I love writing. I never feel really comfortable unless I am either actually writing or have a story going. I could not stop writing.
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His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and his face had taken on the colour and expression of a devout tomato. I could see he loved like a thousand bricks.
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It isn't often that Aunt Dahlia lets her angry passions rise, but when she does, strong men climb trees and pull them up after them.
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A melancholy-looking man, he had the appearance of one who has searched for the leak in life's gas-pipe with a lighted candle.
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His whole aspect was that of a man who has unexpectedly been struck by lightning.
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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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I started violently, as if some unseen hand had goosed me.
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...there occurred to me the simple epitaph which, when I am no more, I intend to have inscribed on my tombstone. It was this: He was a man who acted from the best motives. There is one born every minute.
P. G. Wodehouse
-'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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In a series of events, all of which had been a bit thick, this, in his opinion, achieved the maximum of thickness.
P. G. Wodehouse
Mike nodded. A sombre nod. The nod Napoleon might have given if somebody had met him in 1812 and said, So, you're back from Moscow, eh?
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You can't be a successful Dictator and design women's underclothing.
P. G. Wodehouse
I should think it extremely improbable that anyone ever wrote for money. Naturally, when he has written something, he wants to get as much for it as he can, but that is a very different thing from writing for money.
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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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