Quote

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.

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
Hundred
Iron
Whispering
Irons
Bring
Meat
Gently
Squarely
Morning
Message
Valley
Fore
Hope
Shots
Smiled
Azure
Nature
Seemed
Chips
Shouted
Messages
Breeze
Chip
Sky
Valleys
Blew
Fairway
Golf
Cheer
Landing
Holed

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Routine is the death to heroism.
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He looks much more like a lobster than most lobsters do.
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To say that New York came up to its advance billing would be the baldest of understatements. Being there was like being in heaven without going to all the bother and expense of dying.
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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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The real objection to the great majority of cats is their insufferable air of superiority.
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A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.
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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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Well, you know, there are limits to the sacred claims of friendship.
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the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons
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Jeeves, you really are a specific dream-rabbit. Thank you, miss. I am glad to have given satisfaction.
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Flowers are happy things.
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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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Luck is a goddess not to be coerced and forcibly wooed by those who seek her favours. From such masterful spirits she turns away. But it happens sometimes that, if we put our hand in hers with the humble trust of a little child, she will have pity on us, and not fail us in our hour of need.
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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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Oh, I don't know, you know, don't you know?
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What is Love compared with holing out before your opponent?
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One of the rummy things about Jeeves is that, unless you watch like a hawk, you very seldom see him come into a room.
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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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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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