“It was a wrench, but I felt it was the only possible thing to be done.

“Bring my shaving things.”

A gleam of hope shone in the chappie’s eye, mixed with doubt.

“You mean, sir?”

“And shave off my moustache.”

There was a moment’s silence. I could see the fellow was deeply moved.

“Thank you very much indeed, sir,” he said, in a low voice, and popped off.”

Excerpt From: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. “My Man Jeeves.” iBooks.

You see, I had decided—rightly or wrongly—to grow a moustache and this had cut Jeeves to the quick. He couldn’t stick the thing at any price, and I had been living ever since in an atmosphere of bally disapproval till I was getting jolly well fed up with it.

Excerpt From: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. “My Man Jeeves.” iBooks.

I felt most awfully braced. I felt as if the clouds had rolled away and all was as it used to be. I felt like one of those chappies in the novels who calls off the fight with his wife in the last chapter and decides to forget and forgive. I felt I wanted to do all sorts of other things to show Jeeves that I appreciated him.

Excerpt From: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. “My Man Jeeves.” iBooks.

I’m not absolutely certain of my facts, but I rather fancy it’s Shakespeare—or, if not, it’s some equally brainy lad—who says that it’s always just when a chappie is feeling particularly top-hole, and more than usually braced with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with a bit of lead piping.

Excerpt From: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. “My Man Jeeves.” iBooks.

Visited the family bakery this break.

(Dot’s Pastry Shop, Ocean City, NJ)

I don’t understand beauty in the sexual sense

I like function, and form, and skill; those I can understand. But just liking a nipple because it’s a nipple. Or skin because it’s skin? What is that like?

I can find the function of those things fascinating and amazing, but I see nothing that I find the need to touch or explore in that sense….