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
Message
Valley
Fore
Morning
Shots
Smiled
Azure
Hope
Seemed
Chips
Shouted
Nature
Messages
Breeze
Chip
Sky
Valleys
Blew
Fairway
Golf
Cheer
Landing
Holed

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Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character.
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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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Everything in life that’s any fun, as somebody wisely observed, is either immoral, illegal or fattening.
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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.
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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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Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
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I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don't know what I did before that. Just loafed I suppose.
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Warm-hearted! I should think he has to wear asbestos vests!
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What ho! I said. What ho! said Motty. What ho! What ho! What ho! What ho! What ho! After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.
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...with each new book of mine I have always the feeling that this time I have picked a lemon in the garden of literature.
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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 don't want to seem always to be criticizing your methods of voice production, Jeeves, I said, but I must inform you that that 'Well, sir' of yours is in many respects fully as unpleasant as your 'Indeed, sir?
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But everything is relative, Bertie... You, for instance, are my relative, and I am your relative.
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But what is the love life of newts, if you boil it right down? Didn't you tell me once that they just waggled their tails at one another in the mating season?''Quite correct.' I shrugged my shoulders. 'Well all right, if they like it. But it's not my idea of molten passion.
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You agreee with me that the situation is a lulu? Certainly, a somewhat sharp crisis in your affairs would appear to have been precipitated, Sir.
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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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You can't be a successful Dictator and design women's underclothing.
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the supply of the milk of human kindness was short by several gallons
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Slice him where you like, a hellhound is always a hellhound.
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Woman is the unfathomable, incalculable mystery, the problem we men can never hope to solve.
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