The Duke of Dunstable had one-way pockets. He would walk ten miles in the snow to chisel an orphan out of tuppence. P. G. Wodehouse More Quotes by P. G. Wodehouse More Quotes From P. G. Wodehouse Many bad golfers marry, feeling that a wife's loving solicitude may improve their game. But they are rugged, thick-skinned men, not sensitive and introspective. It is one of the chief merits of golf that non-success at the game induces a certain amount of decent humilty, which keeps a man from pluming himself too much on any petty triumphs he may achieve in other walks of life. P. G. Wodehouse games golf men I've just discovered the secret of golf. You can't play a really hot game unless you're so miserable that you don't worry over your shots. Take the case of a chip shot, for instance. If you're really wretched, you don't care where the ball is going and so you don't raise your head to see. Grief automatically prevents pressing and over-swinging. Look at the top-notchers. Have you ever seen a happy pro? P. G. Wodehouse grief games golf There was the man who seemed to be attempting to decieve his ball and lull it into a false sense of security by looking away from it and then making a lightning slash in the apparent hope of catching it off its guard. P. G. Wodehouse lightning golf men It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky. P. G. Wodehouse cheer golf morning 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. P. G. Wodehouse giving-up hurt children Joan was nothing more than a friend. He was not in love with her. One does not fall in love with a girl whom one has met only three times. One is attracted, yes; but one does not fall in love. A moment's reflection enabled him to diagnose his sensations correctly. This odd impulse to leap across the compartment and kiss Joan was not love. It was merely the natural desire of a good-hearted young man to be decently chummy with his species. P. G. Wodehouse falling-in-love kissing girl Mr Beach was too well bred to be inquisitive, but his eyebrows here not. 'Ah!' he said. '?', cried the eyebrows. '? ? ?' Ashe ignored the eyebrows. ... Mr Beach's eyebrows were still mutely urging him to reveal all, but Ashe directed his gaze at that portion of the room which Mr Beach did not fill. He was hanged if he was going to let himself be hypnotized by a pair of eyebrows into incriminating himself. P. G. Wodehouse eyebrows beach rooms I clutched at the brow. The mice in my interior had now got up an informal dance and were buck-and-winging all over the place like a bunch of Nijinskys. P. G. Wodehouse brows bucks bunch He felt like a man who, chasing rainbows, has had one of them suddenly turn and bite him in the leg. P. G. Wodehouse chasing-rainbows legs men A girl who bonnets a policeman with an ashcan full of bottles is obviously good wife-and-mother timber. P. G. Wodehouse wife girl mother She gave me another of those long keen looks, and I could see that she was again asking herself if her favourite nephew wasn't steeped to the tonsils in the juice of the grape. P. G. Wodehouse nephew long looks I'm bound to say that New York's a topping place to be exiled in. Everybody was awfully good to me, and there seemed to be plenty of things going on, and I'm a wealthy bird, so everything was fine. P. G. Wodehouse toppings new-york bird What earthly good is golf? Life is stern and life is earnest. We live in a practical age. All around us we see foreign competition making itself unpleasant. And we spend our time playing golf? What do we get out of it? Is golf any use? That's what I'm asking you. Can you name me a single case where devotion to this pestilential pastime has done a man any practical good? P. G. Wodehouse names golf men Confidence, of course is an admirable asset to a golfer, but it should be an unspoken confidence. It is perilous to put it into speech. The gods of golf lie in wait to chasten the presumptious. P. G. Wodehouse waiting golf lying A golfer needs a loving wife to whom he can describe the day's play through the long evening. P. G. Wodehouse play golf long They were real golfers, for real golf is a thing of the spirit, not of mere mechanical excellence of stroke. P. G. Wodehouse excellence real golf We Woosters do not lightly forget. At least, we do - some things - appointments, and people's birthdays, and letters to post, and all that - but not an absolutely bally insult like the above. P. G. Wodehouse insult letters people As for Gussie Finknottle, many an experienced undertaker would have been deceived by his appearance and started embalming on sight. P. G. Wodehouse appearance sight depression Comedy is the kindly contemplation of the incongruous. P. G. Wodehouse comedy humor funny If he had a mind, there was something on it. P. G. Wodehouse ifs mind
