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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.
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
Sometimes
Veins
Autumn
Toot
Birds
Briskly
Bird
Tang
Sun
Bracing
Air
Beams
Blood
Beam
Days
Sends
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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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I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.
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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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you ever have that feeling when you step down onto a footstep that isn't there?
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I am told by those who know that there are six varieties of hangover-the Broken Compass, the Sewing Machine, the Comet, the Atomic, the Cement Mixer and the Gremlin Boogie, and his manner suggested that he had got them all.
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The exquisite code of politeness of the Woosters prevented me clipping her one on the ear-hole, but I would have given a shilling to be able to do it. There seemed to me something deliberately fat-headed in the way she persisted in missing the gist.
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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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It's curious how, when you're in love, you yearn to go about doing acts of kindness to everybody.
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They were real golfers, for real golf is a thing of the spirit, not of mere mechanical excellence of stroke.
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Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
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As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight.
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Comedy is the kindly contemplation of the incongruous.
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Sober or blotto, this is your motto: keep muddling through.
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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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Confidence, of course is an admirable asset to a golfer, but it should be an unspoken confidence. It is perilous to put it into speech. The gods of golf lie in wait to chasten the presumptious.
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I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.
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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.
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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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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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