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Book: Right Ho, Jeeves
Quotes of Book: Right Ho, Jeeves

P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
What, in your opinion, will the harvest be?""One finds it difficult to hazard a conjecture, sir.""You mean imagination boggles?""Yes, sir."I inspected my imagination. He was right. It boggled.
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
Yes, Jeeves?"The man had materialized on the carpet. Absolutely noiseless, as usual."A note for you, sir.""A note for me, Jeeves?""A note for you, sir.""From whom, Jeeves?""From Miss Bassett, sir.""From whom, Jeeves?""From Miss Bassett, sir.""From Miss Bassett, Jeeves?""From Miss Bassett, sir."At this point, Aunt Dahlia begged us for heaven's sake to cut out the cross-talk vaudeville stuff. Always willing to oblige, I dismissed Jeeves with a nod, and he flickered for a moment and was gone.
book-quote subtle surreptitious
P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
Especially if the girl he had earmarked was one of these tough modern thugs, all lipstick and cool, hard, sardonic eyes, as she probably was.
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
In this life, you can choose between two courses. You can either shut yourself up in a country house and stare into tanks, or you can be a dasher with the sex. You can't do both."
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
Get married, P.K. Purvis," said Gussie earnestly. "It's the only life ...
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
I said, 'Don't talk rot, Old Tom Travers.""I am not accustomed to talk rot," he said."Then, for a beginner," I said, "you do it dashed well.
book-quote humor humour jeeves
P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
You can't expect an empty aunt to beam like a full aunt.
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
I have no doubt that you could have flung bricks by the hour in England's most densely populated districts without endangering the safety of a single girl capable of becoming Mrs. Augustus Fink-Nottle without an anaesthetic.
book-quote marriage humour
P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
It was some time before this happened, for he had got a very fine hand indeed. I suppose it wasn't often that the boys of Market Snodsbury Grammar School came across a man public-spirited enough to call their head master a silly ass, and they showed their appreciation in no uncertain manner. Gussie may have been one over the eight, but as far as the majority of those present were concerned he was sitting on top of the world.
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
We Woosters can bite the bullet.
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
I remember when I was a kid at school having to learn a poem of sorts about a fellow named Pig-something-a sculptor he would have been, no doubt-who made a statue of a girl, and what should happen one morning but that the bally thing suddenly came to life. A pretty nasty shock for the chap, of course, but the point I'm working round to is that there were a couple of lines that went, if I remember correctly: She starts. She moves. She seems to feel The stir of life along her keel. And what I'm driving at is that you couldn't get a better description of what happened to Gussie as I spoke these heartening words. His brow cleared, his eyes brightened, he lost that fishy look, and he gazed at the slug, which was still on the long, long trail with something approaching bonhomie. A marked improvement.
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P.G. Wodehouse _ Right Ho, Jeeves
She had turned away and was watching a duck out on the lake. It was tucking into weeds, a thing I've never been able to understand anyone wanting to do. Though I suppose, if you face it squarely, they're no worse than spinach.
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