# Joy in the Morning

- Author: [P.G. Wodehouse](https://www.leafyquotes.com/pg-wodehouse.md)
- Quotes: 11
- Book page: https://www.leafyquotes.com/pg-wodehouse/joy-in-the-morning

## Quotes

> There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.

> We exchanged a meaning glance. Or, rather, two meaning glances, I giving him one and he giving me the other.

> When news had reached me through well-informed channels that my Aunt Agatha for many years a widow, or derelict, as I believed it is called, was about to take another pop at matrimony, my first emotion, as was natural in the circumstances, had been a gentle pity for the unfortunate goop slated to step up the aisle with her - she, as you are aware, being my tough aunt, the one who eats broken bottles and conducts human sacrifices by the light of the full moon.

> She laughed - a solo effort. Nothing in the prevailing circumstances made me feel like turning it into a duet.

> I don’t say I’ve got much of a soul, but, such as it is, I’m perfectly satisfied with the little chap. I don’t want people fooling about with it. ‘Leave it alone,’ I say. ‘Don’t touch it. I like it the way it is.’

> He vanished abruptly, like an eel going into mud.

> However devoutly a girl may worship the man of her choice, there always comes a time when she feels an irresistible urge to haul off and let him have it in the neck.

> Aunt Agatha is like an elephant—not so much to look at, for in appearance she resembles more a well-bred vulture, but because she never forgets.

> On his good mornings, I don't suppose there are more than a handful of men in the W. 1 postal district of London swifter to spot oompus-boompus than Bertram Wooster, and this was one of my particularly good mornings. I saw the whole hideous plot.

> I suppose this was really the moment for embarking upon an impassioned defence of Boko, stressing his admirable qualities. Not being able to think of any, however, I remained silent.

> His eyes were rolling in their sockets, and his face had taken on the colour and expression of a devout tomato. I could see he loved like a thousand bricks.