P. G. Wodehouse Quotes

Sudden success in golf is like the sudden acquisition of wealth. It is apt to unsettle and deteriorate the character.

Some minds are like soup in a poor restaurant—better left unstirred.

Oh, I don't know, you know, don't you know?

A little bit added to what you've already got gives you a little bit more.

It was a silver cow. But when I say 'cow', don't go running away with the idea of some decent, self-respecting cudster such as you may observe loading grass into itself in the nearest meadow. This was a sinister, leering, Underworld sort of animal, the kind that would spit out of the side of its mouth for twopence.

The storm is over, there is sunlight in my heart. I have a glass of wine and sit thinking of what has passed.

He was either a man of about a hundred and fifty who was rather young for his years, or a man of about a hundred and ten who had been aged by trouble.

I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don't know what I did before that. Just loafed I suppose.

There's a sort of wooly headed duckiness about you. If I wasn't so crazy about Marmaduke, I could really marry you Bertie.

When you're alone you don't do much laughing.

He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.

You're one of those guys who can make a party just by leaving it. It's a great gift.

In all crises of human affairs there are two broad courses open to a man. He can stay where he is or he can go elsewhere.

It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is.

I'm all for rational enjoyment, and so forth, but I think a fellow makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiled eggs at the electric fan

A certain critic -- for such men, I regret to say, do exist -- made the nasty remark about my last novel that it contained 'all the old Wodehouse characters under different names.' He has probably by now been eaten by bears, like the children who made mock of the prophet Elisha: but if he still survives he will not be able to make a similar charge against Summer Lightning. With my superior intelligence, I have out-generalled the man this time by putting in all the old Wodehouse characters under the same names. Pretty silly it will make him feel, I rather fancy.

I shuddered from stem to stern, as stout barks do when buffeted by the waves.

This was not Aunt Dahlia, my good and kindly aunt, but my Aunt Agatha, the one who chews broken bottles and kills rats with her teeth.

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.

It is fatal to let any dog know that he is funny, for he immediately loses his head and starts hamming it up.

He's like one of those weird birds in India who dissolve themselves into thin air and nip through space in a sort of disembodied way and assemble the parts again just where they want them. I've got a cousin who's what they call a Theosophist, and he says he's often nearly worked the thing himself, but couldn't quite bring it off, probably owing to having fed in his boyhood on the flesh of animals slain in anger and pie.