Best 3518 quotes in «humour quotes» category

Our senses inform us of the colour, weight, and consistence of bread; but neither sense nor reason can ever inform us of those qualities which fit it for the nourishment and support of a human body.

...our witness, one Edward Littleton, was as gay as Elton John's handbag.

Outside the door, a teller with a blue rosette chomps on an apple and asks for my number. She smiles a thank you and reveals a ghastly, gaping tunnel of masticated apple, edge with violent mauve lipstick seemingly applied by Bette Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane.

Ousep looked carefully at the priest. A fifty-year-old virgin, a fully grown man in a white gown who believed that he was an elf who connected God to man, this clown thought Unni was strange.

Out of all the things you would expect when facing a dragon, silence was not on the list. Roaring? Certainly! Snarling? Why, yes - of course! Fire-breathing? Couldn’t possibly do without it. Wouldn’t feel right if it wasn’t there. But silence? No. Definitely not. It was as out of place as a potter at a blacksmith’s.

Over the years, I have been subjected to many indignities, all for the sake of Art. If I ever catch him, I'm going to kill the guy.

Over my opponent's shoulder, I saw Other Ash block an upward strike, then lash out with a kick that sent Puck sprawling onto his back. The reflection stepped forward, raising his sword, but Puck reached back, grabbed a handful of twigs and flung it at his assailant. They turned into a swarm of yellow jackets, buzzing around the fake prince, until a vicious burst of cold sent them plummeting to the ground, coated in frost. "Hey!" Other Puck stabbed forward viciously, making me keep back to avoid him. "The fight's here, ice-boy. Don't worry about your boyfriend, worry about yourself.

O woman, father says natural is beautiful so why do you redden your cheeks and blacken your eyes? Why do you remove the hair on your legs and draw them into your brows? Why do you hold your breath lest your stomach show and hold your fart lest they know that you’re a human? O woman, father says natural is beautiful so why do you straighten your hair to curl it next and pretend to orgasm so they think you enjoyed the sex? Why do you dumb yourself down and push your breasts up? Why do you smile when you’re told to and love when you don’t want to? When? When will you stop, woman? Father says natural is beautiful but that is doubtful for what does father know he’s only a fellow.

Ow. Stop that. It hurts my brain. Isn't your brain distributed through your entire body? See why I want you to stop with the doublethink? -Sergeant Schlock & Captain Tagon

Ozzy's cage is now sparkling but there is a problem. It seems that if you put vast quantities of sawdust down a toilet, the toilet stops working.

Ow! That’s my leg, you know.” She rubbed the sore spot. “I’m gonna have a big bruise there now. Thanks a lot.” “Just tell everyone you had to fend off a pack of unicorns with your bare hands. ‘Cause you were just walking around, minding your own business, cavorting with nature, when a bunch of unicorns descended upon you unexpectedly, and wanted to practice their horn- fighting with a human, just in case they happened upon a wizard and they had to battle to stay free. A wizard would use his wand, so you grabbed a stick, but the stick broke, so you only had your hands. And one of the unicorns’ horns went through your leg, and ‘cause their horns have healing qualities or whatever, the hole healed, but he was just a young unicorn, so his powers hadn’t developed fully yet, and so you were left with this battle scar that’ll mark you as a hero for the rest of your life.” There was a brief silence. “You’re full of crap, you know that, right?” “Yup. But I feel better for it.

..."Papa" referred to Frank five times as: "...the blood son of Dr. Felix Hoenikker." The phrase reeked of cannibalism.

Parents never you make church and studying the word of God optional for your children. If they are in your house, get them up, teach them the word of God, the greatest awards, PhD or achievements any child could have is to grow up in the word of God. I and my family are living witness and it is extending to our third generation.

Parent-Teacher Conference At the parent-teacher conference, my father made a scene. He scared my fifth-grade teacher, with his mask from Halloween. She showed him all my science grades and said she was concerned, but he just stuck his tongue out when my teacher’s back was turned. He drew a monster on the board and claimed it was her twin. He even shook her soda, which expolded on her chin. My angry teacher crossed her arms and said, “This meeting’s done! I now see where he gets it from— you act just like your son!

Par le bois du Djinn où s’entasse de l’effroi Parle ! Bois du gin ou cent tasses de lait froid

Parli come se stessimo uscendo insieme seriamente» disse, guardandomi negli occhi con insistenza. «E non è così, vero?» Restai con la bocca talmente aperta da sembrare un tunnel ferroviario. Non sapevo cosa rispondere. Perché non stavamo uscendo? Certo che lo stavamo facendo, che diritto aveva di chiedermi spiegazioni? «Quale delle tue personalità multiple sta parlando in questo momento?» riuscii a dire. «Quella dello stronzo» sorrise. «A ogni modo, siamo adulti e il termine uscire è obsoleto.» «Sarà così per i trentenni. Io esco, ho degli appuntamenti e dei ragazzi, come mi hai presentato alla tua famiglia? Come un’estranea conosciuta grazie a un escremento di cane?» «No, come qualcuno di molto speciale.

Passing their toilet training is the very last thing that some adults did that has made their parents proud of them.

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man . . .” Evie chanted as she played with Stephen in the Challons’ private railway carriage. They occupied one side of a deep upholstered settee, with Sebastian lounging in the other corner. The baby clapped his tiny hands along with his grandmother, his rapt gaze fastened on her face. “Make me a cake as fast as you can . . .” The nursery rhyme concluded, and Evie cheerfully began again. “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake—” “My sweet,” Sebastian interrupted, “we’ve been involved in the manufacture of cakes ever since we set foot on the train. For my sanity, I beg you to choose another game.” “Stephen,” Evie asked her grandson, “do you want to play peekaboo?” “No,” came the baby’s grave answer. “Do you want to play ‘beckoning the chickens?’” “No.” Evie’s impish gaze flickered to her husband before she asked the child, “Do you want to play horsie with Gramps?” “Yes!” Sebastian grinned ruefully and reached for the boy. “I knew I should have kept quiet.” He sat Stephen on his knee and began to bounce him, making him squeal with delight.

Patriotism is the narcissism of countries.

Peace and gladness in every home is a peace for the society, nation and the world.

Pelagia put her hands on her hips, taking advantage of the superiority implicit in the fact that she was standing and he lying down.

People are good because they are good in hiding their bad.

People at work eyed me with varying degrees of suspicion or approbation, and a couple of them mistook me for the kind of guy who knew twelve different ways to tie a scarf and whether that scarf clashed with their purse. My helpful tip that most accessories were just needless expenses met with disappointment.

People are writing post-apocalyptic fiction like there's no tomorrow!

People get the wrong idea. I blame science-fiction writers, personally. It annoys me how they confuse the whole robot issue. I tell you, if I met that Asimov bloke, I’d harm him, or at least through inaction allow him to come to harm.

People have many cruel expectations from writers. People expect novelists to live on a hill with three kids and a spouse, people expect children's story writers to never have sex, and people expect all great poets to be dead. And these are all very difficult expectations to fulfill, I think.

People in blind love throw away common sense, conscience and comedy from the life.

People often say to me: Oy! Get out of my garden.

People say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. It's not. It's eye bloody spy.

People said— though this felt like a heresy— that they had seen Camille make Robespierre laugh.

People say it is not the key to happiness, but I have always figured if you have enough money you can have a key made.

People talk about the joy of running--of the endorphins and reaching a Zen-like clarity of mind. This had never happened to me. Mostly, all I thought about when I ran was how much further I had to go before I could stop.

People who are not blessed with the ability to make others laugh compensate for that by saying (or trying to say) things that are profound.

People who say you can't do something should be ignored. They're probably talking to themselves.

People who can change and change again are so much more reliable and happier than those who can’t

Perhaps a sense of death is like a sense of humour. We all think the one we've got - or haven't got - is just about right, and appropriate to the proper understanding of life. It's everyone else who's out of step.

People with jutting jaws are more likely to have open throats and hence be less susceptible to snoring and sleep apnoea. Chris Worsnop points out that superheroes such as Superman and Batman are often drawn with strong jutting jaws, a feature which, since the time we lived in caves, has been seen as attractive to women. The reason women may be attracted to jutting jaws may have nothing to do with jutting biceps or jutting anything else; it simply makes it less likely they will have to put up with snoring.

People who wear G-strings suffer from indecision.

Perhaps we are yet to feel the full impact of the Y2K bug but so far it's been quiet.

Personally, I think knees should be kept for the eight or ninth date, or the wedding day. As a nice surprise, you know? 'Oh, my darling, you have knees! I never would have thought!

Personally, I thin knees should be kept for the eight or ninth date, or the wedding day. As a nice surprise, you know? 'Oh, my darling, you have knees! I never would have thought!

Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons  attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

Pete couldn't believe how sanctimonious somebody could be just because they'd once had a soldering iron stuck up their arse.

PE! This word was comprised of two single letters, which would normally not cause anyone any trouble. They were two single letters that were usually associated with the further words of “health” and “extended life” and therefore, had a positive reputation. However, for me, the P and the E put together was the worst possible combination. Every time they were mentioned, I would sigh in displeasure, my heart rate would increase and I would feel lightheaded. After all, in my mind, PE = exercise and exercise = torture!

Philip, outrageously sensitive -- pg 123

Phoebe had recounted some injustice done to her by a playmate, saying she wouldn’t accept the girl’s apology, Evie had persuaded her to reconsider for the sake of kindness. “But she’s a bad, selfish girl,” Phoebe had said indignantly. Her mother’s reply was gentle but matter-of-fact. “Kindness counts the most when it’s given to people who don’t deserve it.” “Does Gabriel have to be kind to everyone too?” Phoebe had demanded. “Yes, darling.” “Does Father?” “No, Redbird,” Sebastian had replied, his mouth twitching at the corners. “That’s why I married your mother—she’s kind enough for two people.” “Mother,” Gabriel had asked hopefully, “could you be kind enough for three people?” At that, their father had taken a sudden intense interest in his newspaper, lifting it in front of his face. A quiet wheeze emerged from behind it. “I’m afraid not, dear,” Evie had said gently, her eyes sparkling. “But I’m sure you and your sister can find a great deal of kindness in your own hearts.

Physically and spiritually, the humour penetrates and executes the healing light and tonic, for the heart and mind.

Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club

Please, comrade! I just want to chop him up for the stew!' 'And that's another thing! I'm tired of stew! I want to put him in a crust and bake a light fluffy quiche!' 'QUICHE?! What kind of food is THAT for a monster to eat?!

Please ejaculate", I silently urged the man, "so I can go to sleep". (In this way I imagine I was like millions of women before me