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It is not mere technical skill that makes a man a golfer, it is the golfing soul.
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
Skill
Mere
Skills
Makes
Soul
Golfer
Men
Golfing
Golfers
Technical
More quotes by P. G. Wodehouse
As a dancer, I out-Fred the nimblest Astaire.
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Flowers are happy things.
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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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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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I expect I shall feel better after tea.
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Warm-hearted! I should think he has to wear asbestos vests!
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So always look for the silver lining And try to find the sunny side of life.
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Golf, like measles, should be caught young.
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Success comes to a writer as a rule, so gradually that it is always something of a shock to him to look back and realize the heights to which he has climbed.
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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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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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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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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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Woman is the unfathomable, incalculable mystery, the problem we men can never hope to solve.
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He felt like a man who, chasing rainbows, has had one of them suddenly turn and bite him in the leg.
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...it has been well said that it is precisely these moments when we are feeling that ours is the world and everything that's in it that Fate selects for sneaking up on us with the rock in the stocking.
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It was one of those cases where you approve the broad, general principle of an idea but can't help being in a bit of a twitter at the prospect of putting it into practical effect. I explained this to Jeeves, and he said much the same thing had bothered Hamlet.
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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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...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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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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