Psmith, Journalist

“I am Psmith," said the old Etonian reverently. "There is a preliminary P before the name. This, however, is silent. Like the tomb. Compare such words as ptarmigan, psalm, and phthisis.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“cannot be muzzled!””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“Elementary, My Dear Watson.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“It soon became apparent that the light of the lamp, though bestowing the doubtful privilege of a clearer view of Mr. Repetto's face, held certain disadvantages. Scarcely had the staff of Cosy Moments reached the faint yellow pool of light, in the centre of which Mr. Repetto reclined, than, with a suddenness which caused them to leap into the air, there sounded from the darkness down the road the crack-crack-crack of a revolver. Instantly from the opposite direction came other shots. Three bullets flicked grooves in the roadway almost at Billy's feet. The Kid gave a sudden howl. Psmith's hat, suddenly imbued with life, sprang into the air and vanished, whirling into the night.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“But the work had told upon the Editor. Work of that sort carries its penalties with it. Success means absorption, and absorption spells softening of the brain.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“it is never pleasant to be alone in any big city.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“And now to work. Work, the what's-its-name of the thingummy and the thing-um-a-bob of the what d'you-call-it.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“The chances are that, if we go on long enough, we shall eventually arrive somewhere.””

— P. G. Wodehouse