Best 15 722 of Humor quotes - MyQuotes
Fulton J. Sheen
Baloney is flattery laid on so thick it cannot be true, and blarney is flattery so thin we love it.
An international power supply is the device which means it doesn't matter what country you're in, or even if you know what country you're in (more of a problem than you might suspect) - you just plug your Mac in and it figures it out for itself. We call this principle Plug and Play. Or at least, Microsoft calls it that because it hasn't got it yet. In the Mac world we've had it for so long we didn't even think of giving it a name.
Are you finally starting to breathe in a normal fashion?” Shahrzad teased. “I must confess I find your behavior rather odd, considering you said only a child would be afraid to fly.” “I wasn’t afraid.” Khalid wrapped a forearm of corded muscle around her. She slanted a disbelieving look his way. “You just lied to me.” “I wasn’t afraid,” he repeated. “I was terrified.
I've always chosen my band members based on their sense of humor. It might sound stupid, but it means not only are they fun to live with on a tour bus for years, but humor implies intelligence.
I wanted to know every story behind the scars on her curves. I wanted to decipher the whispers hidden beneath her every breath. I wanted to unravel her with my hands.
...There are too many idiots in this world. And having said it, I have the burden of proving it.
Most of the funeral stuff is going to be done during daylight hours,” I said. “I’m not even going to be able to attend the burial. Humans get upset when vampires burst into flames right next to them.
Radio is a bag of mediocrity where little men with carbon minds wallow in sluice of their own making.
Loving Reading Hot Books w/ Hot Guys!!! #hotguys #goodbooks
It will be like having an extreme close-up in high definition to examine each freckle, while failing to notice whether the person is even wearing pants.
You can always rely on America to do the right thing -- once it has exhausted the alternatives.
You know when they have a fishing show on TV? They catch the fish and then let it go. They don't want to eat the fish, they just want to make it late for something.
And so we find ourselves at the scene of another murder," Milo said, coming back to the sitting area. He didn't seem much troubled by the fact, for he lit another cigarette and settled back into his chair. I couldn't help but think that he looked particularly content.
One must love a cat on its own terms.
Huh. Veronica Mars, speechless. I'll have to write this one in my feelings journal.
G. K. Chesterton
All the mothers-in-law I have ever had were admirable. Yet the legend of the comic papers is profoundly true. It draws attention to the fact that it is much harder to be a nice mother-in-law than to be nice in any other conceivable relation of life. The caricatures have drawn the worst mother-in-law a monster, by way of expressing the fact that the best mother-in-law is a problem. The same is true of the perpetual jokes in comic papers about shrewish wives and henpecked husbands. It is all a frantic exaggeration, but it is an exaggeration of a truth; whereas all the modern mouthings about oppressed women are the exaggerations of a falsehood. If you read even the best of the intellectuals of to-day you will find them saying that in the mass of the democracy the woman is the chattel of her lord, like his bath or his bed. But if you read the comic literature of the democracy you will find that the lord hides under the bed to escape from the wrath of his chattel. This is not the fact, but it is much nearer the truth. Every man who is married knows quite well, not only that he does not regard his wife as a chattel, but that no man can conceivably ever have done so. The joke stands for an ultimate truth, and that is a subtle truth.
Now that that's settled, you're coming with me." "Never in a billion suns. Not even if Zeus showed up as a swan and tried to peck me in your direction. I wouldn't go with you even if my other option was Hades dragging me to the Underworld for an eternal threesome with Persephone.
He joined Jude in the kitchen and began making a salad, and JB slumped to the dining-room table and started flipping through a novel Jude had left there. "I read this," he called over to him. "Do you want to know what happens in the end?" "No, JB," said Jude. "I'm only halfway through." "The minister character dies after all." "JB!" After that, JB's mood seemed to improve.
This wasn't a commodifiable realization, the kind of thing in college essays or inspirational books or the hardbound journals of gentle ladies. There was no ah, no ha, no relaxation or humor folded into this realization. There was just something real in my head—a rescue boat in a sea where there was no one left to save.
I'm sick of the media making female sports athletes into supermodels, when they're clearly sixes at best.
My son is 21. He'll be 22 if I let him.
Dark Jar Tin Zoo
I love like I’m thirsty. Can I offer you a tall glass of Sahara sand?
Hubert H. Humphrey
Behind every successful man is a proud wife and a surprised mother-in-law.
Does getting nailed by a werewolf count as bestiality?
How you felt?" he asks, still looking like he's trying to hide a smirk. "Oh, shut up. I'm going now. I'm sorry I bothered you, your Highness of Reindeerness," I say, with more than a little sarcasm. "I promise not to ever disturb you again.
To my astonishment I saw him standing at a table with Kitty Jones. It was the Kitty Jones bit that was astonishing. Not the table. Though it was very nicely polished.
You hardly know me and yet you invited me out on a date,’ said Miss Dearheart. ‘Why?’ Because you called me a phoney, Moist thought. You saw through me straight away. Because you didn’t nail my head to the door with your crossbow. Because you have no small talk. Because I’d like to get to know you better, even though it would be like smooching an ashtray. Because I wonder if you could put into the rest of your life the passion you put into smoking a cigarette. In defiance of Miss Maccalariat I’d like to commit hanky-panky with you, Miss Adora Belle Dearheart… well, certainly hanky, and possibly panky when we get to know one another better. I’d like to know as much about your soul as you know about mine… He said: ‘Because I hardly know you.’ ‘If it comes to that, I hardly know you, either,’ said Miss Dearheart. ‘I’m rather banking on that,’ said Moist. This got a smile. ‘Smooth answer. Slick. Where are we really eating tonight?
Espero que en algún lugar haya otro ser humano que haya sentido alguna vez lo que estoy sintiendo ahora... y también espero que este ser humano no esté encerrado en La Castañeda o en el San Bernardino.
I'm really going to have you offed," Henry tells him. "You'll never see it coming. Our assassins are trained in discretion. They will come in the night, and it will look like a humiliating accident." "Autoerotic asphyxiation?" "Toilet heart attack." "Jesus." "You've been warned." "I thought you'd kill me in a more personal way. Silk pillow over my face, slow and gentle suffocation. Just you and me. Sensual." "Ha. Well." Henry coughs.
People blame science. Shit, man, people shouldn’t blame science. People should blame people.
Look, this is just the cemetery. It's got bylaws and things! It's not Transylvania! There's just dead people here! That doesn't make it scary, does it? Dead people are people who were living once! You wouldn't be so worked up if there were living people buried here, would you?
...the three cardinal tenets of rum drinking in Newfoundland. The first of these is that as soon as a bottle is placed on a table it must be opened. This is done to "let the air get at it and carry off the black vapors." The second tenet is that a bottle, once opened, must never be restoppered, because of the belief that it will then go bad. No bottle of rum has ever gone bad in Newfoundland, but none has ever been restoppered, so there is no way of knowing whether this belief is reasonable. The final tenet is that an open bottle must be drunk as rapidly as possible "before all to-good goes out of it.
I worry about my nan. If she's alone and falls, does she make a noise? I'm joking, she's dead.
If consultants followed their own advice, they wouldn't tell anyone.
I know this goes without saying, but Stonehenge really was the most incredible accomplishment. It took five hundred men just to pull each sarsen, plus a hundred more to dash around positioning the rollers. Just think about it for a minute. Can you imagine trying to talk six hundred people into helping you drag a fifty-ton stone eighteen miles across the countryside and muscle it into an upright position, and then saying, 'Right, lads! Another twenty like that, plus some lintels and maybe a couple of dozen nice bluestones from Wales, and we can party!' Whoever was the person behind Stonehenge was one dickens of a motivator, I'll tell you that.
If there is a god maybe it rewards those who don't believe on the basis of insufficient evidence--and punishes those who do.
Someone stole my wallet last week. The guy called me up and he was mad at me. He was like 'you gotta get your finances together. You got no cash, your credit cards are maxed out. You don't even have minutes on your calling card. I had to use my card to call you.'
The flicker, the flutter, even thoughts can stutter.
It's like a natural law that my mother can never look anything less than obscenely beautiful. Even though she was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, heads turned in her direction. Or maybe they were staring at me as I tried to discreetly wipe sweat from between my breasts without appearing to get to second base with myself. Hard to say.
You know when a company wants to use letters in their phone number, but often they'll use too many letters? "Call 1-800-I-Really-Enjoy-Brand-New-Carpeting." Too many letters, man, must I dial them all? "Hello? Hold on, man, I'm only on 'Enjoy.' How did you know I was calling? You're good, I can see why they hired you!
I came home, the car was in the dining room. "How did you get the car in here?" "Easy, I took a left at the kitchen.
Big Bertie’s sweet and tangy Hawaiian BBQ Sauce,” she said, caressing the bottle, “is guaranteed to get you lei’d
There are eight levels of wizardry on the Disc; after sixteen years Rincewind has failed to achieve even level one. In fact it is considered opinion of some of his tutors that he is incapable even of achieving level zero, which most normal people are born at; to put it another way, it has been suggested that when Rincewind dies the average occult ability of the human race will actually go up by a fraction.
I was only going to shoot you if he was in one band. And only if it had a name like Uncle Toejam's Acid Crematorium or something. But bluegrass is good, and hey, music is MY life too. Maybe I'll actually like the guy (assuming he's around long enough). Just don't write and tell me you're in the process of stirring up some baby Custard-Mustards.
I’m so glad I put a hot, naked guy on my Christmas wish list. I just didn’t think Santa would actually deliver one.
When it was her turn to say good-bye, Aryal said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Niniane opened and closed her mouth. She said, "I have no idea how to respond to that.
Of course, to be fair, that was a parent's job. The world was so full of sharp bends that if they didn't put a few twists in you, you wouldn't stand a chance of fitting in.
Caffeine. The gateway drug.
I have a few business ideas (that I'm going to advertise in High Times, amongst other places), and one of them is a service in which I offer to eat and describe pork to kosher people.
And you, Lord Bridgerton," she replied in a tone that could have frozen champagne, "are almost as handsome as your brother." Colin snorted again, only this time it sounded as if he were being strangled. "Are you all right?" Miss Sheffield asked. "He's fine," Anthony barked. She ignored him, keeping her attention on Colin. "Are you certain?" Colin nodded furiously. 'Tickle in my throat." "Or perhaps a guilty conscience?" Anthony suggested. Colin turned deliberately from his brother to Kate. "I think I might need another glass of lemonade," he gasped. "Or maybe," said Anthony, "something stronger. Hemlock, perhaps?