# The Code of the Woosters

- Author: [P.G. Wodehouse](https://www.leafyquotes.com/pg-wodehouse.md)
- Quotes: 17
- Book page: https://www.leafyquotes.com/pg-wodehouse/the-code-of-the-woosters

## Quotes

> ...his head emerged cautiously, like that of a snail taking a look around after a thunderstorm.

> Aunt Agatha, who eats broken bottles and wears barbed wire next to the skin.

> It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.

> [of Spode] He was, as I had already been able to perceive, a breath-taking cove. About seven feet in height, and swathed in a plaid ulster which made him look about six feet across, he caught the eye and arrested it. It was as if Nature had intended to make a gorilla and had changed its mind at the last moment.

> 'There are moments, Jeeves, when one asks oneself, "Do trousers matter?"'
>
> ‘The mood will pass, sir.’

> She snorted with a sudden violence which twenty-four hours earlier would have unmanned me completely. Even in my present tolerably robust condition, it affected me like one of those gas explosions which slay six.

> I don’t know if you have had the same experience, but a thing I have found in life is that from time to time, as you jog along, there occur moments which you are able to recognize immediately with the naked eye as high spots. Something tells you that they are going to remain etched, if etched is the word I want, for ever on the memory and will come back to you at intervals down the years, as you are dropping off to sleep, banishing that drowsy feeling and causing you to leap on the pillow like a gaffed salmon.

> There came from without the hoof-beats of a galloping relative and Aunt Dahlia whizzed in.

> I don’t suppose she would recognize a deep, beautiful thought if you handed it to her on a skewer with tartare sauce.

> 'I want to know what the devil you mean by keeping coming into my private apartment, taking up space which I require for other purposes and interrupting me when I am chatting with my personal friends. Really one gets about as much privacy in this house as a strip-tease dancer.'

> 'Have you ever seen Spode eat asparagus?'
>
> 'No.'
>
> 'Revolting. It alters one's whole conception of Man as Nature's last word.'

> Stiffy was one of those girls who enjoy in equal quantities the gall of an army mule and the calm insouciance of a fish on a slab of ice.

> 'You can't be a successful Dictator and design women's underclothing.'
>
> 'No, sir.'
>
> 'One or the other. Not both.'
>
> 'Precisely, sir.'

> Prismatic is the only word for those frightful tweeds and, oddly enough, the spectacle of them had the effect of steadying my nerves. They gave me the feeling that nothing mattered.

> ’You know your Shelley, Bertie!’
>
> ‘Oh, am I?’

> I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.

> The trouble with you, Spode, is that just because you have succeeded in inducing a handful of half-wits to disfigure the London scene by going about in black shorts, you think you're someone. You hear them shouting ‘Heil, Spode!’ and you imagine it is the Voice of the People. That is where you make your bloomer. What the Voice of the People is saying is: ‘Look at that frightful ass Spode swanking about in footer bags! Did you ever in your puff see such a perfect perisher?