Quotes by P.G. Wodehouse

The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.

Marriage is not a process for prolonging the life of love, sir. It merely mummifies its corpse.

He had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at the bottom.

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

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.

There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, Do trousers matter?The mood will pass, sir.

Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous.

I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.

Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoys Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy days work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the citys reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.

Im not absolutely certain of the facts, but I rather fancy its Shakespeare who says that its always just when a fellow is feeling particularly braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping.

What ho! I said.What ho! said Motty.What ho! What ho!What ho! What ho! What ho!After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

A melancholy-looking man, he had the appearance of one who has searched for the leak in lifes gas-pipe with a lighted candle.

If there is one thing I dislike, it is the man who tries to air his grievances when I wish to air mine.

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

Unseen in the background, Fate was quietly slipping lead into the boxing-glove.

I am not always good and noble. I am the hero of this story, but I have my off moments.

The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.

Mike nodded. A sombre nod. The nod Napoleon might have given if somebody had met him in 1812 and said, So, youre back from Moscow, eh?

There is only one cure for grey hair. It was invented by a Frenchman. It is called the guillotine.

You would not enjoy Nietzsche, sir. He is fundamentally unsound.