I was writing a story, 'The Artistic Career of Corky,' about two young men, Bertie Wooster and his friend Corky, getting into a lot of trouble, and neither of them had brains enough to get out of the trouble. I… — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
If men's minds were like dominoes, surely his would be the double blank. — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
He was a long, stripy policeman, who flowed out of his uniform at odd spots, as if Nature, setting out to make a constable,… — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
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… — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
“the march of civilisation has given the modern girl a vocabulary and an ability to use it which her grandmother never had” — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
So always look for the silver lining And try to find the sunny side of life. — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
Love has had a lot of press-agenting from the oldest times; but there are higher, nobler things than love. — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
Golf... is the infallible test. The man who can go into a patch of rough alone, with the knowledge that only God is watching… — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
Rex Stout's narrative and dialogue could not be improved, and he passes the supreme test of being rereadable. I don't know how many times… — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
“He was a tubby little chap who looked as if he had been poured into his clothes and forgotten to say 'when'!” — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
Well, you certainly are the most wonderfully woolly baa-lamb that ever stepped. — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
Her pupils were at once her salvation and her despair. They gave her the means of supporting life, but they made life hardly worth… — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows. — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
Some minds are like soup in a poor restaurant—better left unstirred. — P. G. Wodehouse Copy Share Image
