Best 636 of Satire quotes - MyQuotes
Henry David Thoreau
But the divinest poem, or the life of a great man, is the severest satire.... The greater the genius, the keener the edge of the satire.
Yea” might be turned into “Nay” and vice versa if a sufficient quantity of wordage was applied to the matter. The second was that in any argument, the victor is always right, and the third that though the pen is mightier than the sword, the sword speaks louder and stronger at any given moment. - Roger Fenwick, Duke of Grand Fenwick
I was only hit on once at the grocery store. I remember it was early one Saturday morning and I was buying my daily bacon, when I got tapped on the shoulder. I turned around and I saw a rather short and very feeble eighty-year-old lady looking up at me. She said in a weak, scratchy voice, "Excuse me, young man, could you reach up and grab some ketchup for me?" Well I'm no dummy. I know when I'm getting hit on. I smiled politely and reached up for the ketchup, knowing full well that she just wanted to get a gander at my derriere. As I handed her the ketchup, she said, "Thank you," like I was some piece of meat, a boy toy, or something. Finally I just blurted out, "Look, I'm married, lady!" She acted all surprised and confused. "Excuse me? I don't understand!" I shook my head with a smirk, raised my left hand, and showed her my wedding ring. "Married!" I loudly told her. "I'm taken!" A stock boy at the end of the aisle looked at us and inquired, "Is everything okay?" "I'm fine," I assured him. "I know how to deal with predators." Well, suddenly this sex-crazed lady got all angry at me. Like I was out of line. She huffed off. "Well, I never!" "And you ain't gonna with me either, " I yelled after her. I have to admit, it was nice to get the attention.
This is why people like writing. You visit old friends without having to go on Facebook and see what they're up to and deal with what idiots call FOMO. You make them into what you want them to be, the people they could be if only they were braver, smarter.
The woman spoke with a heavy western North Carolina accent, which I used to discredit her authority. Here was a person for whom the word 'pen' had two syllables. He people undoubtedly drank from clay jugs and hollered for Paw when the vittles were ready-- so who was she to advise me on anything?
A satirist that criticizes religion is seen as a satanist.
Whether it is big or small, the size of a poor man’s yard incessantly reminds him that he is poor.
Oh, I don’t mean to infer that you’re not a great guy. I’m sure you’re the exception to the rule.
My fiancé immediately began to look uncomfortable, but did not voice this discomfort except by a soft gurgling sound in the throat . . . The gurgling escalated, but my mother politely switched on the dishwasher, and soon we heard mostly the sound of machinery rather than that of a person's feelings surfacing.
At least one way of measuring the freedom of any society is the amount of comedy that is permitted, and clearly a healthy society permits more satirical comment than a repressive, so that if comedy is to function in some way as a safety release then it must obviously deal with these taboo areas. This is part of the responsibility we accord our licensed jesters, that nothing be excused the searching light of comedy. If anything can survive the probe of humour it is clearly of value, and conversely all groups who claim immunity from laughter are claiming special privileges which should not be granted.
Love turns, with little indulgence, to indifference or disgust: hatred alone is immortal.
Ah! good Sir! no Whores before Dinner, I beseech you." [Love's Last Shift]
Okay, you won our shitty little argument. Pass the world.
Some people would not be dead if they have not gotten the things or people they had prayed for.
Het is niet duidelijk of de tantes het broekje dan wel de erectie zo interessant vonden, wel dat je als lezer bij de drie tantes aan de drie schikgodinnen denkt.
In some cases, it is the woman’s stomach—not her heart—that has left her man for another.
I didn't know what to say. I knew I had a big choice to make. I could let it all go and try to love him, try to trust him, try to make something lasting and good. He obviously had strong feelings for me or about me. And he wasn't being so bad right now. We could build something sturdy, beautiful. Or I could try to make a dash for the door by crawling under the dining room table. There was a good chance that he would kill me later either way.
Verse satire indeed is entirely our own.
Looking but not seeing is the hearing but not understanding of the eye.
St. John Morris
I once went to one of his Virgin Vie parties and had a really good time watching Chas having a paddy whilst trying to put on Dave’s socks, before realising that he only had two feet, compared to Dave’s three.
Some of the people we feel sorry for feel sorry for us for thinking that they are the ones who should be felt sorry for.
Famine sometimes increases the number of people who are overweight.
It [being very rich] used to worry me, and I thought it wrong to have so many beautiful things when others had nothing. Now I realize that it is possible for the rich to sin by coveting the privileges of the poor. The poor have always been the favourites of God and his saints, but I believe that is is one of the special achievements of Grace to sanctify the whole of life, riches included.
I’ve had affairs before but never like this - I need a reason to leave my wife,” Shimansky said, desperately appealing to me. “Won't you wife be annoyed?" I asked. “Probably. No doubt. She usually is…” he said. “That's very complicated. Even worse, what if your wife forgives you…? What then? You going to stay with her and keep doing the other one…?” From: "The Sundial Salesman.
Mary Wortley Montagu
Satire should, like a polished razor keen, Wound with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen.
By drinking, a boy acts like a man. After drinking, many a man acts like a boy.
Ryker, you ride with Orlando,” Ryker mocked in a snarky voice as he turned to the other man. He gestured toward the Pinto with a look of revulsion on his rugged face. “How the hell does he expect both of us to fit into that tiny metal trap? Even if we could squeeze in, the tires will probably pop. In fact, let's just carry it over. It'll be faster that way.
Some people do not really hate aging; they merely love the colour black.
Greed is a contagious mental illness without which civilization as we know it would not have been possible.
Being HIV positive doesn’t necessarily mean that you are going to die before each and every person who is HIV negative.
In reality most human beings are not, to most human beings, more important than money.
Peter Pastmaster and the absurdly youthful colonel of the new force were drawing up a list of suitable officers in Bratts Club. 'Most of war seems to consist of hanging about,' he said. 'Let's at least hang about with our own friends.
Most of us cling to life as if our existence were a result of our deed or choice.
The way I saw it, if my students were willing to pretend I was a teacher, the least I could do was return the favor and pretend that they were writers.
St. John Morris
There was Arctic John, a businessman from Salisbury who doesn’t hold water, Bruce Knott, a social worker from Cumberland who spends his lunch hour picking his bum, and Judith Glycerine, the reformation pig.
With regard to things such as independence, mental capabilities, and sexuality, a very old man is nothing but a gigantic infant with white hair and wrinkles.
Fuck that. Fuck that idea like the fucking captain of the Thai Fuck Team fucking at the fucking Tour de Fuck.
Every single living thing is food to at least one living thing.
There was a certain amount of initial argumentation about the "meaning" of the balloon; this subsided, because we have learned not to insist on meanings, and they are rarely even looked for now, except in cases involving the simplest, safest phenomena.
In the Olden Days there were no women which is why you don't come across them in history lessons at school.
By and large, the mission of any ghost is to offer humility. They point out what's important by mocking what is not. (Joshua Malina, Sports Night)
An avalanche is just a snowflake that got pissed off.
I tell lies somewhere else, but not here, not in front of myself.
You are more likely to find three TVs inside a randomly selected house than you are to find a single book that is or was not read to pass an exam, to please God, or to be a better cook.
Some people say he engineered his own arrest to gain an insight into modern methods of policing for a thriller he had planned. But you know what happens to artistic rats in prison: they have their rectums stretched, and not by overindulgence in Michelin-star food; they have their columns examined, and not by internet humorists or a qualified medical practitioner. I’m sure Rat knew this, too. Although he likes to accumulate a wide general knowledge, he would rather have a narrow rectum. A colon comes in handy here, before examples: two dots on top of one other, like the cowboys who copulate on Brokeback Mountain, on a slope so far away you need binoculars to see them properly. In prison there are too many insights and examples. Rat would never risk it.
After having so nobly disentangled themselves from the shackles of Parental Authority, by a Clandestine Marriage, they were determined never to forfeit the good opinion they had gained in the World, in so doing, by accepting any proposals of reconciliation that might be offered them by their Fathers – to their farther trial of their noble independence however they never were exposed.
Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to write The Way We Live Now. And as I had ventured to take the whip of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the iniquities of the great speculator who robs everybody, and made an onslaught also on other vices;--on the intrigues of girls who want to get married, on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain single, and on the puffing propensities of authors who desire to cheat the public into buying their volumes.
The animals were happy as they had never conceived it possible to be. Every mouthful of food was an acute positive pleasure, now that it was truly their own food, produced by themselves and for themselves, not doled out to them by a grudging master. With the worthless parasitical human beings gone, there was more for everyone to eat. There was more leisure too, inexperienced though the animals were.
Some people respect some people only because some people respect them.
What gets me most about these people, Daddy, isn't how ignorant they are, or how much they drink. It's the way they have of thinking that everything nice in the world is a gift to the poor people from them or their ancestors. The first afternoon I was here, Mrs. Buntline made me come out on the back porch and look at the sunset. So I did, and I said I liked it very much, but she kept waiting for me to say something else. I couldn't think of what I was supposed to say, so I said what seemed like a dumb thing. "Thank you very much," I said. That is exactly what she was waiting for. "You're entirely welcome," she said. I have since thanked her for the ocean, the moon, the stars in the sky, and the United States Constitution.