Best 501 quotes in «hilarious quotes» category

Brian's face broke out in a wide grin as he slapped Roarke on the back. "That's a woman, isn't it?" "Delicate as a rose, my Eve. Fragile and quiet natured." He grinned himself when he heard her curse, loud and vicious. "A voice like a flute." "And you're sloppy in love with her." "Pitifully.

(Brin) 'How good is your lawyer, on a scale of Atticus Finch to Franklin and Bash?

But what really won me over was his butt. What finally made it impossible for me not to like the man was how right out there on the Adventist basepaths, right in front of eighty or ninety of the kind of pious adult spectators who spent their every Sabbath if not their entire lives trying to forget the existence of things like butts, Beal's buns were trying to light a fire by friction inside his jeans; they were gyrating like a washing machine with its load off balance; they were thrashing against his pants like two big halibut against the bottom of a boat. And the wonderful thing, the amazing thing, was how once his older audience got over the shock of it, they began to look amused at, then fascinated by, and finally downright grateful toward his writhing reminder that yes, buns did exist, and yes, every one of us owned not one but two of the things, and yes, like the God who created them in His Image, they did indeed move in mysterious ways.

Chubi, rhymes with booby, which you don't have, or doodie, which your face looks like," she said smugly, leaning back and making her chair squeak.

Clearly, his winks were some sort of superpower, because I swear that if he asked me to jump from the roof of a tall building and then winked, I’d jump.

Come on sweetheart, wet your whistle, my little inanimate hussy." ~Steve

Cryptic Dad is cryptic,' I muttered ... We'd hung out all day today. Was there no time in there he could have said, 'Oh, hey, meet me at the magical bookcase at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow, cool?

Damn it! I knew she was a monster! John! Amy! Listen! Guard your buttholes.

Dante.Oh,Dante.Seal me!Seal me so hard!”.He grabs my hips and pumps his toward mine.“Oh,Dante! You’re so hot when you seal souls.” I shove my idiot-of-a-best-friend off me and laugh.“What the hell was that?” I ask. “My new move.

Damn, is this bitch a crackhead vampire? She stays up all night. In the morning you're looking at her like, did you ever go to sleep?

Daniel?” I raise an eyebrow to match his expression. “Holder?” “What are you up to?” “I do not know what you are talking about,” I reply innocently. “You do know what I am talking about because when you are lying, you do not use contractions when you speak.” I ponder his observation for a few seconds. Is that true? Shit. It’s true.

Dearest Annie, Roses are red. Violets are blue. I’m using my hand But I’m thinking of you. - Ronan P.S. Just to clarify, I’m using my hand to write this note…get your mind out of the gutter.

Delores is a gorgeous name, for a gorgeous girl. Plus, it rhymes with clitoris...and I really know my way around them. Big fan.

Death would be an extremely bad thing like most of us paint it, if being dead were painful.

(Derek) “How do you see the beauty in a three-eared dog but not in a guy with big teeth?” (Christy) “Dogs rule. People drool.” (Derek) “Only if you gag them.

Diana, would you marry someone for money?" I asked her out of the blue one afternoon during her lunch break. Without missing a beat, she made a contemplative noise. "It depends.How much money?" It was right then I knew I'd called the wrong person. I should have dialed Oscar, my slightly younger brother, instead. He'd always been wise beyond his years. Diana...not so much. I only told her the partial truth. "What if someone bought you a house?" She "hmmed" and then "hmmed" a little more. "A nice house?" "It wouldn't be a mansion, you greedy whore, but I'm not talking about a dump or anything either." I figured at least.

Doing nothing is hard. You never know when you’re done. —T-SHIRT

Dont shave,I like it..It helps with one of my new fantasies." "Yeah ?"Zack shifted a little to the center on top of him for maximum pleasure."What new fantasy is that ?" Lucy grinned,the sleepiness in her smile melting into guile."The one about the innocent schoolteacher and the vicious,uncivilized cop.Want to play ?" "Sure."Zack ran his hands up her back."Who do you want to be ?" "I,of course will be the innocent schoolteacher"Lucy batted her eyes at him. "Which makes me the cop.All right you have the right to remain naked." Lucy laughed.

Don’t do that? This is your sage advice?” “Yeah.” He burped and blew it out the side of his mouth. “Sorry, the burritos we had for lunch are kinda comin’ back on me.

Don't open the door to strangers," said her dad. "Unless they're selling something. Then open the door and see if I'd like it. If I'd like it, buy it for me. But nothing cheap. I have standards. Nothing too expensive, either. My standards aren't that high.

Don’t tempt the scorpion if you don’t want to get stung.

Don't threaten me with a good time.

Do you have nicknames for any of your other brothers?" The youngster squinted his dark gray eyes in concentration. "Well, Tristan is Dare, and sometimes he's Tris; and Bradshaw is Shaw; and sometimes we call Andrew, Drew, but he doesn't like that very much." "Why not?" "He says it's a girls' name, and then Shaw calls him Drusilla.

[Ella] “Again, I ask, whose side are you on?” [Lola] “The side that has the least Dorito-flavored vomit on the floor after the party.

Dylan looked promising. Tomboy. Tall and deliciously rangy. Her raven hair was unevenly sliced, streaked auburn in a patch or two. A thatch of black hair hung like a flag of bad-girl honor over Dylan’s right eye. She was delightfully loud. Her black, paint-splattered jeans were ripped at both knees. She wore a red T-shirt that proclaimed: “Ask Me About My Big Pink Pussy.

Elizabeth smiled warmly. "For you I will allow it, Mr. Trask. How is your wife, sir? Still putting up with you, or has she finally come to her senses and run away?" Trask laughed, slapping his knee. "I see married life has not tamed that wit of yours, Miss Elizabeth! Well done! Your poor hus- band, to be saddled with such a wench!" Lizzy assumed a mournful face. "Yes, it is a tragic affair. It is merely a matter of time ere a cell at Bedlam will be his home.

(Erin) 'What do you think gave you this interest?' Yep. There it was. 'I’m not saying anything bad about it. I just wonder what makes one person want to hit another. Did I not give you enough contact when you were young? Should I have breast-fed?' (Derek)'I’m pretty sure it started when you left me in the bread aisle when I was two. I started thinking the only way to get people to notice me was to tie them up and whip them.

Everyone got behind Fox, the name the guys had dubbed the red truck. "Fox?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah," Isaac said with a grin. "Our truck is hot, like Megan Fox.

Even the world’s greatest actor cannot fake an erection.

Even those who want to go to heaven would rather kill than be killed.

Everyone gets tortured these days. Skulduggery by Serpine, who then turned around and did that red right hand thing at you. Then Skulduggery was tortured again by the Faceless Ones. I figured it was my turn, you know? You're not part of the team if you haven't been tortured- that's what I always say. Well, I'll be saying that from now on anyway.

Finding out that you are not your lover’s only lover hurts, but not as much as discovering that you are the side chick … or the side dick.

Every single person is a fool, insane, a failure, or a bad person to at least ten people.

Everything ok here ?" Ryan grunted urging her with a hand on her lower back. "He thinks you should mind your own business,"Makenna told the Beta,translating the grunt. Dominic cocked his head."You understand his grunts?" She lifted her chin."I thought it was crystal clear." Dominic turned to Ryan."Marry her." Ryan grunted again before heading for the door. "What did he say?"Dominic asked her. "Fuck off,"she translated.

First, if you participate in Movember, fuck you. Second, if you want to raise money for prostate cancer (a noble cause), do it the old-fashioned way, by either begging for it or exerting yourself physically for donations. Sitting on your ass and letting nature take its course above your upper lip is not the same thing as running a 10K at a local high school or breaking out the set of power tools your dad gave you as a housewarming present collecting dust in your garage and using them to go out and build a habitat for humanity. Maybe I can raise money for rectal cancer by getting people to pledge a dollar every time I take a shit. And third no one wants to see that horrific seventies pornstache growing like a caterpillar with cerebral palsy zigzagging across your face; you look like you're about to go door to door informing people that you're a registered sex offender who's just moved in next door and would their kids like to come out and was your windowless van for a dollar? Fuck Movember. And November.

Forget I ever referred to my mother and screwing in the same sentence. That's just .... wrong. On so many levels.

Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness," Clarissa said slowly, "but for one as unaccustomed to good deeds as you, perhaps it would be best if you started with one on a smaller scale. Something like, I don't know, spreading bread crumbs for birds?" "Birds?" Valentina stared at Clarissa as if she had sprouted wings and would fly off. "Why on earth would I wish to feed birds?" "It was just a thought," Clarissa murmured.

Follow my finger." He moved it around, tracking my eye movements. "Any blurred vision?" "Well I think I'm hallucinating, because I see a big talking pile of crap." - Joanne Baldwin.

For a long moment the butler sat in silence, his jaw hanging open. “I . . . my lord, I simply don't feel qualified to advise you about such matters.” “Don't tell me that,” Saint protested. “Tell me whether you can imagine me as a married man or not.” To his surprise, the butler set aside his brandy snifter and sat forward. “My lord, I do not wish to overstep my bounds, but I have noticed a change in your demeanor of late. The question of whether anyone can imagine you married or not, however, is one I believe must be answered by you. And the lady, of course.” Saint frowned. “Coward.” “There is that, as well.

Forgive me. I continue to underestimate the breadth of your ignorance.

Girls are always complaining that they can never meet a nice guy. Nice guys are everywhere. The problem isn’t that there aren't any nice guys, the problem is that all of the nice guys are ugly.

Fuck, you’ve been to the sex store.” “Sure have.” Josh held up a plastic bag. “Man, that was fun. And by fun, I mean seriously fucking creepy...

Gilly Gilleshpee

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe I vow, I cannot seem to walk past a window without seeing my great-nephew carrying Miss Balfour somewhere. All great romantic poems have such scenes where the hero, in a fit of passion, sweeps the heroine off her feet. Sadly, it appears that Sin’s technique is questionable. I’m surprised that, with all of his supposed experience with the gentler sex, he doesn’t realize that women do not like to be carried in a way that musses their hair and leaves them with unattractively red faces. Sadly, yet another conversation I shall have to have with that boy.

Get this: how many Weavers does it take to screw in a light bulb?' Kate folded her arms, her expression aloof. Acciper pensively scratched his beard, withholding his ignorance. 'One?' ventured Vivian. Lucian's boyish face split into a grin. His body filled up with the imminent rumble of laughter. 'Two Weavers. One holds the light bulb and the other one spins reality around it.

Give it up, mister! No sex for you!" I yelled at the wall as my girls cackled maniacally. "Tons of sex for me, sister. None for you!" he yelled all too clearly through the wall.

Hairy monkeyballs!” I hiss. “Dogshit on a stick! Puke pancakes!” A head pokes in. Wren, green eyes smiling, walks over to my bed. “I knew you were awake. Who else spews such original and captivating swears?

Golan swiveled his head back and forth, nervously sizing us up. Is she serious? For a moment he seemed genuinely frightened, but then he said, "You're full of shit.

Hadn’t retired reporter Stan warned him of how protective Cosimo was of his granddaughters? What if the Carusos had discovered his identity and wanted to rub him out as they’d rubbed out his father? Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

God help him if any of them ever came true. Why, he'd be a two-headed, three-toed, monkey-nosed, blind son of a cesspit-licking lackey is she had her way.