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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
Tree
Lets
Passion
Climb
Often
Climbs
Strong
Passions
Doe
Pull
Men
Trees
Dahlia
Rise
Dahlias
Angry
Aunt
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It was one of those parties where you cough twice before you speak and then decide not to say it after all.
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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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Whenever I have that sad, depressed feeling, I go out and kill a policeman.
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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.
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Golf, like the measles, should be caught young, for, if postponed to riper years, the results may be serious.
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If men's minds were like dominoes, surely his would be the double blank.
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There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.
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I started violently, as if some unseen hand had goosed me.
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Now, I'm a mixer. I can't help it. It's my nature. I like men. I like the taste of their boots, the smell of their legs, and the sound of their voices. It may be weak of me, but a man has only to speak to me, and a sort of thrill goes down my spine and sets my tail wagging.
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Cats, as a class, have never completely got over the snootiness caused by the fact that in ancient Egypt they were worshipped as gods. This makes them prone to set themselves up as critics and censors of the frail and erring human beings whose lot they share.
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It is not mere technical skill that makes a man a golfer, it is the golfing soul.
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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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Everything in life that’s any fun, as somebody wisely observed, is either immoral, illegal or fattening.
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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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She looked like something that might have occured to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.
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