Something New

“As we grow older and realize more clearly the limitations of human happiness, we come to see that the only real and abiding pleasure in life is to give pleasure to other people.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“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

“This is peculiarly an age in which each of us may, if he do but search diligently, find the literature suited to his mental powers.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“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

“You remind me of an old cat I once had. Whenever he killed a mouse he would bring it into the drawing-room and lay it affectionately at my feet. I would reject the corpse with horror and turn him out, but back he would come with his loathsome gift. I simply couldn’t make him understand that he was not doing me a kindness. He thought highly of his mouse and it was beyond him to realize that I did not want it.You are just the same with your chivalry. It’s very kind of you to keep offering me your dead mouse; but honestly I have no use for it. I won’t take favors just because I happen to be a female.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“Trouble, after all, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“One of the King Georges of England–I forget which–once said that a certain number of hours’ sleep each night–I cannot recall at the moment how many–made a man something, which for the time being has slipped my memory.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“Science, with a thousand triumphs to her credit, has not yet succeeded in discovering the correct reply for a young man to make who finds himself in the appalling position of being apologized to by a pretty girl.””

— P. G. Wodehouse

“Tell me," said Ashe gratefully, leaning forward in an attitude of attention, "all about the lining of your stomach.””

— P. G. Wodehouse