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There are three things in the world that he held in the smallest esteem - slugs, poets and caddies with hiccups.
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
Poet
Hiccups
Three
Caddies
Things
Slugs
World
Smallest
Poets
Esteem
Held
Golf
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
It was loud in spots and less loud in other spots, and it had that quality which I have noticed in all violin solos of seeming to last much longer than it actually did.
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This was not Aunt Dahlia, my good and kindly aunt, but my Aunt Agatha, the one who chews broken bottles and kills rats with her teeth.
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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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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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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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Just another proof, of course, of what I often say - it takes all sorts to make a world.
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It's not that I don't trust you, Dunstable, it's simply that I don't trust you.
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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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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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There is only one cure for gray hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.
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Some minds are like soup in a poor restaurant—better left unstirred.
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I never was interested in politics. I'm quite unable to work up any kind of belligerent feeling. Just as I'm about to feel belligerent about some country I meet a decent sort of chap. We go out together and lose any fighting thoughts or feelings.
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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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She looked like something that might have occured to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments.
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If men's minds were like dominoes, surely his would be the double blank.
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If he had a mind, there was something on it.
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In his normal state he would not strike a lamb. I’ve known him to do it’ ‘Do what?’ ‘Not strike lambs
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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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I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.
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Woman is the unfathomable, incalculable mystery, the problem we men can never hope to solve.
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