Golf is the Great Mystery. Like some capricous goddess, it bestows its favours with what would appear an almost fat-headed lack of method and discrimination. On every side we see big two-fisted he-men floundering round in three figures, stopping every few minutes to let through little shrimps with knock-knees and hollow cheeks, who are tearing up snappy seventy-fours.
P. G. WodehouseIt 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. WodehouseThere was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.
P. G. WodehouseYou are falling into your old error, Jeeves, of thinking that Gussie is a parrot. Fight against this. I shall add the oz.
P. G. Wodehouse