But a baa-lamb?

 Seeing the object of Penny's affections at closed range, he found himself favourably impressed. For an author, Jerry Vail was rather nice-looking, most authors, as is widely known, resembling in appearance the more degraded types of fish, unless they look like birds, when they could pass as vultures and no questions asked. His face, while never likely to launch a thousand ships, was not at all a bad sort of face, and Gally could readily picture it casting a spell in a dim light on a boat deck. Looking at him, he found it easy to understand why Penny should have described him as a baa-lamb. From a cursory inspection he seemed well entitled to membership in that limited class.

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

A life well misspent

     "Thank you, dear," she said. "I call that very nice of you. You don't look so bad yourself," she added, with that touch of surprise which always came into the voices of those who, meeting Gally after a lapse of years, found him so bright and rosy.

    This man's fitness was one of the eternal mysteries. Speaking of him, a historian of Blandings Castle had once written: "A thoroughly misspent life had left the Hon. Galahad Threepwood in what appeared to be perfect, even exuberantly perfect physical condition. How a man who ought to have had the liver of the century could look as he did was a constant source of perplexity to his associates. It seemed incredible that anyone who had had such an extraordinarily good time all his life should, in the evening of that life, be so superbly robust."

    Striking words, but well justified. Instead of the blot on a proud family which his sister Constance, his sister Julia, his siter Dora and all his other sisters considered him, he might have been a youngish teetotaller who had subsisted from boyhood on yogurt yeast, wheat germ, and blackstrap molasses. He himself attributed his health to steady smoking, plenty of alcohol, and his lifelong belief that it was bad form to go to bed before three in the morning.

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

She made quite an impression

     "Well, well, well!" he said, gazing at her with undisguised admiration. "Do you know you positively don't look a dashed day older, Maudie? It's amazing."

    And indeed the years had dealt lightly with the erstwhile Maudie Montrose. A little more matronly, perhaps, than the girl with the hourglass figure who had played the Saint Bernard dog to the thirsty wayfarers at the old  Criterion, she still made a distinct impression on the eye, and the landlord of the Emsworth Arms, his growing son Percy, and the half dozen Shropshire lads who were popping up the establishment's outer wall had stamped her with the seal of their popeyed approval. Her entrance had been in the nature of a social triumph.

    "It's astounding," said Gally. "One gasps. Put you in a bathing suit, add you to the line of contestants at any seaside beauty competition, and you would still have the judges whooping and blowing kisses and asking you if you were doing anything next Saturday night."

    It was the sort of tribute a thousand mellowed clients had paid her across the bar in the old days, and Maudie, who had simpered indulgently then, simpered indulgently now.

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

Reason enough to love her

 For Gloria Salt he felt that gentle affection which men feel for women who could have married them and didn't.

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

When your partner gets out of line

 "We were playing in the mixed doubles, and I admit that I may have been slightly off my game, but that was no reason why, after we had dropped the first set, he should have started barging into my half of the court, taking my shots for me as if I were some elderly aunt with arthritis in both legs who had learned tennis in the previous week at a correspondence school."

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

That's the end of THAT engagement!

     "If Orlo Vosper in his formative years had been thoroughly kicked twice a day, Sundays included, he might not have grown up the overbearing louse he has become."

    "Would you call him an overbearing louse?"

    "I did. To his face."

    "When was this?"

    "On the tennis court at Eastbourne, and again when entering the club house. I'd have done it in the dressing-room, too, only he wasn't there. They separate the sexes. Of all the overbearing lice that ever overbore, I told him, you are the undisputed champion, and I gave him back his ring."

    "Oh, you were engaged?"

    "Don't rub it in. We all make mistakes."

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

    

Love at sea

     "Well, I don't know quite what to say. You have rather stunned your greyhaired old friend. You really love this chap?"

    "Haven't you been listening?

    "But you can't have known him for more than about four days."

    "So what?"

    "Well, I was just thinking . . . Heaven knows I'm not the man to counsel prudence and all that sort of thing. The only woman I ever wanted to marry was a music-hall serio who sang songs in pink tights. But -"

    "Well?"

    "I think I'd watch my step, if I were you, young Penny. There are some queer birds knocking around in this world. You can't always go by what fellows say on ocean liners. Many a man who swears eternal devotion on the boat deck undergoes a striking change in his outlook when he hits dry land and gets among the blondes."

    "Gally, you make me sick."

    "I'm sorry. I just thought I'd mention it. Facts of life and all that sort of thing."

    "If I found Jerry was like that, I'd give him the air in a second, though it would break my heart into a million quivering pieces. We Donaldsons have our pride."

    "You betcher."

    "But he isn't. He's a baa-lamb. And you can't say a baa-lamb isn't a nice thing to have around the house."

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

The wrong girl for a pig man

     "For mark this, Clarence, and mark it well. The girl who carelessly dismisses Empress of Blandings as a piggy-wiggy today is a girl who may quite easily forget to give her lunch tomorrow. Whatever induced you, my dear fellow, to entrust a job that calls for the executive qualities of a Pierpont Morgan to the popeyed daughter of a rural vicar?"

    Lord Emsworth did not actually wring his hands, but he came very near to it.

    "It was not my doing," he protested. "Connie insisted on my engaging her. She is some sort of a protegee of Connie's. Related to someone she wanted to oblige, or something like that. Blame Connie for the whole terrible situation."

    "Connie!" said Gally. "The more I see of this joint, the more clearly do I realize that what Blandings Castle needs, to make it an earthly Paradise, is fewer and better Connies. Sisters are a mistake, Clarence. You should have set your face firmly against them at the outset."

(from Pigs Have Wings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

It doesn't help his career

There was a silence. He sat tapping his finger with the pen. I, if memory serves me correctly, straightened my tie. I was deeply concerned. The thought of poor old Stinker being bunged into the Bastille was enough to disturb anyone with a kindly interest in his career and prospects. Nothing retards a curate's advancement in his chosen profession more surely than a spell in the jug.

(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

A no nonsense pooch

     I was standing there, hoping for the best, when my meditations were broken in upon by an odd, gargling sort of noise, something like static and something like distant thunder, and to cut a long story short this proved to proceed from the larynx of the dog Bartholomew.

    He was standing on the bed, stropping his front paws on the coverlet, and so easy was it to read the message in his eyes that we acted like two minds with but a single thought. At the exact moment when I soared like an eagle onto the chest of drawers, Jeeves was skimming like a swallow onto the top of the cupboard. The animal hopped from the bed and, advancing into the middle of the room, took a seat, breathing through the nose with a curious whistling sound and looking at us from under his eyebrows like a Scottish elder rebuking sin from the pulpit.

    And there for a while the matter rested.

(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

Just keep cool

 The whole situation recalled irresistibly to my mind something that had happened to me once up at Oxford, when the heart was young. It was during Eights Week, and I was sauntering on the river bank with a girl named something that has slipped my mind, when there was a sound of barking and a large, hefty dog came galloping up, full of beans and buck and obviously intent on mayhem. And I was just commending my soul to God and feeling that this was where the old flannel trousers got about thirty bobs' worth of value bitten out of them, when the girl, waiting till she saw the whites of its eyes, with extraordinary presence of mind suddenly opened a coloured Japanese umbrella in the animal's face. Upon which, it did three back somersaults and retired into private life.

(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

Per Wikipedia, Eights Week, also known as Summer Eights, is a four-day regatta of bumps races which constitutes the University of Oxford's main intercollegiate rowing event of the year. The regatta takes place in May of each year, from the Wednesday to the Saturday of the fifth week of Trinity Term. Men's and women's eights compete in separate divisions for their colleges.

Only from a distance

 "You will understand," I said, "that I am implying nothing derogatory to your cousin Madeline when I say that the idea of being united to her in the bonds of holy wedlock is one that freezes the gizzard. The fact is in no way to her discredit. I should feel just the same about marrying many of the world's noblest women. There are certain females whom one respects, admires, reveres, but only from a distance. If they show any signs of attempting to come closer, one is prepared to fight them off with a blackjack. It is to this group that your cousin Madeline belongs. A charming girl, and the ideal mate for Augustus Fink-Nottle, but ants in the pants to Bertram."

(from The Code of the Woosters, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)