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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.
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
Strong
Passions
Doe
Pull
Men
Trees
Dahlia
Rise
Dahlias
Angry
Aunt
Tree
Lets
Passion
Climb
Often
Climbs
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
He groaned slightly and winced like Prometheus watching his vulture dropping in for lunch.
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It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky.
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A lesser moustache, under the impact of that quick, agonised expulsion of breath, would have worked loose at the roots.
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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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Unlike the male codfish which, suddenly finding itself the parent of three million five hundred thousand little codfish, cheerfully resolves to love them all, the British aristocracy is apt to look with a somewhat jaundiced eye on its younger sons.
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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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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 was a confusion of ideas between him and one of the lions he was hunting in Kenya that had caused A. B. Spottsworth to make the obituary column. He thought the lion was dead, and the lion thought it wasn't.
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The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.
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There's too much of that where-every-prospect-pleases-and-only-man-is-vile stuff buzzing around for my taste.
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Routine is the death to heroism.
P. G. Wodehouse
The only way of really finding out a man's true character is to play golf with him. In no other walk of life does the cloven hoof so quickly display itself.
P. G. Wodehouse
A girl who bonnets a policeman with an ashcan full of bottles is obviously good wife-and-mother timber.
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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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I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
P. G. Wodehouse
Golf, like the measles, should be caught young, for, if postponed to riper years, the results may be serious.
P. G. Wodehouse
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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He looked haggard and careworn, like a Borgia who has suddenly remembered that he has forgotten to shove cyanide in the consommé, and the dinner-gong due any moment.
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[He] saw that a peculiar expression had come into his nephew's face an expression a little like that of a young hindu fakir who having settled himself on his first bed of spikes is beginning to wish that he had chosen one of the easier religions.
P. G. Wodehouse
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.
P. G. Wodehouse
