48 Quotes About Wodehouse

I have written it before and am not ashamed to write it again. Without Wodehouse I am not sure that I would be a tenth of what I am today -- whatever that may be. In my teenage years, his writings awoke me to the possibilities of language. His rhythms, tropes, tricks and mannerisms are deep within me.But more than that, he taught me something about good nature. It is enough to be benign, to be gentle, to be funny, to be kind.

Bicky rocked, like a jelly in a high wind.

He had the look of a frustrated tiger whose personal physician had recommended a strict vegetarian diet.

I can remember the days, said the Gin-and-Ginger-Ale, when every other girl you met stood about six feet two in her dancing-shoes, and had as many curves as a Scenic Railway.

-'What do ties matter, Jeeves, at a time like this?'There is no time, sir, at which ties do not matter

Sober or blotto, this is your motto: keep muddling through.

Bertie : [on Gussie] Any message for him?Roderick Spode - 8th Earl of Sidcup: Yes. Tell him I'm going to break his neck.Bertie : Break his neck, right. And, if he should ask why?Roderick Spode - 8th Earl of Sidcup : He knows why. Because he is a butterfly, who toys with women's hearts and throws them away like soiled gloves!Bertie : Do butterflies do that?Roderick Spode - 8th Earl of Sidcup : Are you trying to be funny?

My father did not bring it up, but of course I knew that he had another reason to worry about my decision to write. Though he was a reader, he was not a lover of fiction, because fiction is not true, and for that flaw it was forever inferior to fact. If reading fiction was a waste of time, so was the writing of it. Why is it, I wonder, that humor didn't count? Wodehouse, for one, whom both of us loved, was a flawless fiction writer.

It would take more than long-stemmed roses to change my view that you're a despicable cowardy custard and a disgrace to a proud family. Your ancestors fought in the Crusades and were often mentioned in despatches, and you cringe like a salted snail at the thought of appearing as Santa Claus before an audience of charming children who wouldn't hurt a fly. It's enough to make an aunt turn her face to the wall and give up the struggle.