Best 3518 quotes in «humour quotes» category

His fingers lightly grazed my cheek. "I didn't know you before. When you're not there, I can't concentrate. I'm wondering where you are, what you're doing...if you're there and I can see you, I can see you, I can focus. I know it's crazy, but that's how it is." "And crazy is exactly the way I like it," I said, leaning up to kiss his lips. "Obviously," America muttered under breath.

His desire for this to be a joke was quickly replaced by a desire for whiskey.

His only mistake, naturally enough, was to keep his attention on the bloke with the saw. He should have been watching the naked girls. Amazing how finely balanced that choice can be.

His jaw was set, telling me I should back off. Unfortunately, being a gobby cow meant I couldn’t.

...his knees were held together by the skin-tight trousers, which consequently narrowed the aperture through which great quantities of malodorous, rancid dreck were shortly to emerge with great force. St John knew that this was likely to prove troublesome. Although his mid-morning bab was usually undertaken in a more perfunctory manner, he would still have been mindful enough to ensure that his trousers were well below the knee before he commenced the disagreeable act, but in his current predicament, he was in no state to dally.

His knowledge of country lore was a little hazy, but he felt fairly sure that if the cows lay down, it meant rain. If they were standing it would probably be fine. These cows were taking it in turns to execute slow and solemn somersaults; and Tyler wondered what it presaged for the weather.

His only real financial failure came at the age of thirteen when, in an uncharacteristic error of judgement, he invested £200,000 of his own savings in wooden socks, an invention that never caught on as he had hoped.

...his hair was a production, of nature and art: it was as if his face had washed up on his head, like a tide, and left its mark, and then some artistic boy had come along to the same beach with a little paint.

His name's Twoflower. He isn't from these parts.' 'Doeshn't look like it. Friend of yoursh?' 'We've got this sort of hate-hate relationship, yes.

His rapier was at his belt, glittering as he swung. He reached down, ripped the sword clear. I jumped over a slashing frond of plasm, spun round with the water bottle in my hand. I hurled it across to Lockwood. George threw his rapier to me. Watch this now. Sword and bottle, sailing through the air, twin trajectories, arching beautifully through the mass of swirling tendrils towards Lockwood and me. Lockwood held out his hand. I held out mine. Remember I said there was that moment of sweet precision when we gelled perfectly as a team? Yeah, well. This wasn't it. The rapier shot past, missing me by miles. It skidded halfway across the floor. The bottle struck Lockwood plumb in the centre of his forehead, knocking him through the window. There was a moment's pause. 'Is he dead?' the skulls voice said 'Yay! Oh. No, he's hanging onto the shutters. Shame. Still, this is defiantly the funniest thing I've ever seen. You three really are incompetence on a stick

His Scotch bear-leader, Mr Boswell, was a butt of the first quality.

Hmmm... that's interesting." "What?" "There seems to be a gentleman walking towards us with a shotgun.

Hmph. Yes. Him. He had the nerve to turn down our offer of immortality and tell us to pay better attention to our children. Er, no offense.” “Oh, how could I take offense? Please, go on ignoring me.

His tricks had raised the temperature of the room considerably, although I was pretty sure his presence alone had that effect.

Hi!' The chirpy little voice greeted me with such energised enthusiasm it made me jump nearly a foot out of my seat. I turned around, expecting to see the usual cocky little Bezzer-in-training Tyler, who every once in a while enjoys pissing off as many people on the bus as possible, but to my surprise it was the scruffy little quiet Year 7 who sits at the front of the bus with his big orange hair bouncing around. 'Hello,' I replied dubiously. (You can't assume that a kid isn't intending to give you grief just because he has ginger hair, not these days. What is the world coming to?)

Hobbes: UGH! something under the bed is drooling. Calvin: Start tying the sheets. We'll go out the window.

Holly girl, you are all too human, I can assure you. Prickly and awkward and human, because that's what witches are - human, that is, not necessarily the prickly and annoying bit. That's just you.

Holy freak show!

Holy crap, woman! What was that?' Guy stared down at the twitching right half of the body. He was morbidly shocked and incredibly proud. She shrugged casually. 'Payback. Hell hath no fury like a Payal scorned. Can we go now?

Holly was staring at me. "Who were you talking to just then?" "No one! You!" "I don't believe you." "Look, does it really matter right now?" "If we're going to be working together, Lucy...." "Oh, hell! All right! I'll tell you! It's an evil haunted skull that lives in my backpack! Happy, now?

Holy shit," somebody muttered in the dark. "A virgin," sputtered another. "I didn't know they still made them." "He just did.

Honestly, Evie," I huffed, flopping back to the centre of my bed and glaring at the ceiling. "Why don't you whine some more instead of actually doing anything?" "Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," Arianna volunteered, leaning on the frame of my open door. "Yeah, so's seeing things no one else can, but people seem to like that about me." "Good point. Odds are, you've been crazy for years now. I'm probably nothing more than a figment of your imagination." "If that were true, I'd imagine you as less of a slob." She sighed. "Isn't it sad that you hate yourself so much you can't even dream up a pleasant roommate?" "Not as sad as the fact that you admit how bad you suck as one." Flashing a wicked grin, she narrowed her eyes. “ I'd use the term 'suck' sparingly around me.  Don't want to go planting ideas in my pretty,  dead head." I threw a pillow at her.

Honestly, we don't kick or bite or throw potatoes at all our guests." A crooked smile touched Lord Bradford's lips. "Your family has spirit," he said, taking his hat from Azalea. "I enjoyed the evening." "Well, yes, you've just come from a war," said Azalea.

Honest to God, she was the noisiest woman he'd ever been shot at with.

Homework, I Love You Homework, I love you. I think that you’re great. It’s wonderful fun when you keep me up late. I think you’re the best when I’m totally stressed, preparing and cramming all night for a test. Homework, I love you. What more can I say? I love to do hundreds of problems each day. You boggle my mind and you make me go blind, but still I’m ecstatic that you were assigned. Homework, I love you. I tell you, it’s true. There’s nothing more fun or exciting to do. You’re never a chore, for it’s you I adore. I wish that our teacher would hand you out more. Homework, I love you. You thrill me inside. I’m filled with emotions. I’m fit to be tied. I cannot complain when you frazzle my brain. Of course, that’s because I’m completely insane.

Honest friends is kinda nice, but it's hard to beat a big-ass lie and a six-pack of brewskies.

Honestly—who puts a hamburger next to diet tofu curry unless they’re trying to buy your soul?

Hope?! Hope is a bit desperate, isn't it? Hope is right below wishful thinking and right above performing a rain dance.

Hopeless. Freak. Elephant. Pitiful

Hope is a strange thing, not to mention a common prostitute name,...

How, and when shall these things come to pass? wherefore are our years few and evil?

How are you doing?” he asks and I grimace. “Okay, okay,” he’s talking quickly now. “The boys and I had a discussion and then we voted, and as a majority we think that you should look at this.” “What is it?” I ask cautiously, looking at the iPad he’s proffering. “It’s not porn again is it, because I told Bram that it doesn’t help with all of life’s problems, but he won’t fucking listen.

Host: For those of you just tuning in, our guests tonight are the amazing Murder Magician, and his lovely minion, The Assistant... Assistant: Charmed, I'm sure Host: Who recently killed The Rumor. And you were awarded the Oppenheimer prize for villainy at last week's annual summit for dastardly deeds-- what are you going to do with all that money? Murder Magician: Well, I'm so glad you asked that-- because I spent all the money on this giant MURDERBOT, and I've been dying to show it off! Assistant: It's true... every penny. Host: Wow! That's impressive! So what does it do? Murder Magician: Well, Mr. Clark... it murders people. Laughter. Murder Magician: I'm serious. Assistant: He is.

How about we be the light of Jesus Christ? There are things we tend to forget when fear becomes the driving force. The world is filled with a lot of questions now; what do we do? Who do we elect? How do we fix this? Some people feel powetless in those ways. Helpless, hopeless, confused, overwhelmed. What do we do? My answer: Stop looking for practical advice "don't be afraid " "those who are with us are more than those who are with them" 2 kings 6:16

How are you feeling Sweet Peach?” he enquires as he walks across to the chest of drawers, selects a pair of socks and pulls them on. Sweet Peach? What the hell? He’s definitely gay … I shrug. “Er … okay, I guess. I really don’t remember much though. How did I get here … and why am I wearing your t-shirt?” I ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer. Hagen laughs nervously. “I brought you home when you couldn’t tell me where you lived. And don’t worry, you got changed all by yourself … in the kitchen … for like an hour.

Horns honked all around us, and our fellow drivers seemed concerned about my education, as they were introducing me to all manner of exciting hand gestures. Some of them were even new to me. I pointed to one of them. "Look, Dominic. We're learning new things.

How are we going to get out of here?" "Oh, escape is easy once you have the right plan." "Do we have the right plan?" "Not yet." "Do we have any plan?" "Not yet.

How are you? My father could say this quicker than anybody. He was always the first to say how are you, provided the occasion called for it, and he saw his chance. Thanks to this skill, he was made ambassador to England ...

How can one look happy when he is contemplating the anomolous Zeeman effect? (Wolfgang Pauli)

How can a man whose eyes are so close together be trusted?

How dense and literal it is. I thought it had a much more sophisticated brain." "Your mother is dense," Alif said wearily. "My mother was an errant crest of sea foam. But that is neither here nor there.

How can you say you're not in love with Hell?" "Because I'm not in love with Hell." See? Not hard to say at all. It's true isn't it? "Delusional much?

How could I not fall in love with him," she asked. And on the tail end of her words, her bedroom door flew open and closed just as fast. Jen bent over, panting heavily as she looked up at Sally. "Hey Sally girl. Who we falling in love with?" Jen asked breathlessly. "Jen, what's wrong?" Sally paused and then decided on a better question. "What have you done now?" Jen stood up and took two deep breaths. Seeming to have regained her wind, she spoke quickly. "First off, I've changed my mind. I don't want you to name your first born after me." Sally interrupted. "Thank goodness for that," she muttered. "I want you to name your entire freaking litter after me," Jen growled. "Do you know what I've been through?" Jen's arms were flinging around as she glared at Sally. "I did that little strip tease to try and keep things from escalating with the rest of the pack and Decebel was beyond pissed. I had to sneak out of the gathering room and make a run for it. I've been running through the freaking forest trying to throw him off by changing back and forth so that I could place my clothes that I carried in my freaking muzzle. CARRIED IN MY MUZZLE SALLY! I put them in different places to throw off him off my scent." Jen went over to Sally's window and was trying to judge the danger of using it as an exit.

How could I suddenly go from a person who had struggled to dissect an already dead mouse, to someone who was willing to murder a human being? There was no logic to it!

How could you receive a member of the Male Sex in your bedroom, and in your dressing gown?Sir, I must request you to leave immediately!" "You don't mean to tell me that's a dressing gown?" interrupted Mr Carlton, a dangerous gleam in his eyes." Well, it's by far the most elegant one I've ever been priviledged to see, and I suppose I must have seen scores of 'em in my time-paid for them too!

How did a child of ten find out about a three and a half hundred years old children's show?!

How do you know?” “Well, I don’t, I’m making this up, but I bet I’m right.

How do you explain plastic to a medieval forest bard?

How do you mend the promises you break – stitching, gumming, welding, nailing, stapling? ~Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

How do I look?" he asked. Barret grinned. "Old." Moog glanced over appraisingly. "Tired." Gabriel snorted a laugh. "Fuck you guys.