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Mr Howard Saxby, literary agent, was knitting a sock. He knitted a good deal, he would tell you if you asked him, to keep himself from smoking, adding that he also smoked a good deal to keep himself from knitting.
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
Would
Agents
Knitting
Asked
Howard
Deal
Sock
Deals
Adding
Tell
Tobacco
Keep
Agent
Also
Literary
Knitted
Good
Smoking
Smoked
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
-'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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Mike nodded. A sombre nod. The nod Napoleon might have given if somebody had met him in 1812 and said, So, you're back from Moscow, eh?
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It's a funny thing about looking for things. If you hunt for a needle in a haystack you don't find it. If you don't give a darn whether you ever see the needle or not it runs into you the first time you lean against the stack.
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Well, you certainly are the most wonderfully woolly baa-lamb that ever stepped.
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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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One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old situation.
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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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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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What is Love compared with holing out before your opponent?
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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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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.
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It is the bungled crime that brings remorse.
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To find a man's true character, play golf with him.
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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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He looks much more like a lobster than most lobsters do.
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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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A little bit added to what you've already got gives you a little bit more.
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She looked away. Her attitude seemed to suggest that she had finished with him, and would be obliged if somebody would come and sweep him up.
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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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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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