Quotes by P.G. Wodehouse
She looked as if she had been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say "when."
The Duke of Dunstable had one-way pockets. He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence.
The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on
whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.
It is a good rule in life never to apologize. The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort take a mean advantage of them.
I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don't know what I did before that . . . just loafed, I suppose.
As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight.
Marriage isn't a process of prolonging the life of love, but of mummifying the corpse.
Her face was shining like the seat of a bus-driver's trousers.
A melancholy-looking man, he had the appearance of someone who had searched for the leak in life's gas pipe with a lighted candle.
"Have you ever tasted such filthy coffee?" "Never" said Joe, though he had lived in French hotels.
Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
I pressed down the mental accelerator.
The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.
There is only one cure for gray hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.
He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.
I always advise people never to give advice.
She gave me the sort of look she would have given a leper she wasn't fond of.
Wilfred Allsop was sitting up, his face pale, his eyes glassy, his hair disordered. He looked like the poet Shelley after a big night out with Lord Byron.
She wrinkles her nose at me as if I were a drain that had got out of order.
The Aberdeen terrier gave me an unpleasant look and said something under his breath in Gaelic.
Write to me: suman 'at' techwritersindia 'dot' com Add to:del.icio.us| Digg| Reddit| StumbleUpon| Technorati
The Duke of Dunstable had one-way pockets. He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence.
The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on
whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.
It is a good rule in life never to apologize. The right sort of people do not want apologies, and the wrong sort take a mean advantage of them.
I know I was writing stories when I was five. I don't know what I did before that . . . just loafed, I suppose.
As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight.
Marriage isn't a process of prolonging the life of love, but of mummifying the corpse.
Her face was shining like the seat of a bus-driver's trousers.
A melancholy-looking man, he had the appearance of someone who had searched for the leak in life's gas pipe with a lighted candle.
"Have you ever tasted such filthy coffee?" "Never" said Joe, though he had lived in French hotels.
Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
I pressed down the mental accelerator.
The old lemon throbbed fiercely. I got an idea.
There is only one cure for gray hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.
He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.
I always advise people never to give advice.
She gave me the sort of look she would have given a leper she wasn't fond of.
Wilfred Allsop was sitting up, his face pale, his eyes glassy, his hair disordered. He looked like the poet Shelley after a big night out with Lord Byron.
She wrinkles her nose at me as if I were a drain that had got out of order.
The Aberdeen terrier gave me an unpleasant look and said something under his breath in Gaelic.
Write to me: suman 'at' techwritersindia 'dot' com Add to:del.icio.us| Digg| Reddit| StumbleUpon| Technorati
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