Best 3518 quotes in «humour quotes» category

I stared in awe at the Lincoln Memorial. If Honest Abe had come to life and somehow managed to lift his bony twenty-three-foot, four-inch frame from his throne, what would he say? What would he do? Would he break-dance? Would he pitch pennies against the curbside? Would he read the paper and see that the Union he saved was now a dysfunctional plutocracy, that the people he freed were now slaves to rhythm, rap, and predatory lending, and that today his skill set would be better suited to the basketball court than the White House?

Is somethin' wrong?" said Daft Wullie. "Aye!" snapped the kelda. "Rob willnae tak' a drink o' Special Sheep Liniment!" Wullie's little face screwed up in instant grief. "Ach, the Big Man's deid!" he sobbed. "Oh waily waily waily - " Will ye hush yer gob, ye big mudlin!" shouted Rob Anybody, standing up. "I am no' deid! I'm trying to have a moment o' existential dreed here, right? Crivens, it's a puir lookout if a man cannae feel the chilly winds o' Fate lashing aroound his nethers wi'out folks telling him he's deid, eh?

Is she dead?" called Zenda. Sort of," I shouted, "And the pizza's completely fucked too.

I spilled my cup of coffee straight onto my crotch. Superior heat retention has its drawbacks. I grimaced as the scalding liquid reached ground zero, but as I did my best to angle my jeans away from the Resnick family's last hope, my seatmate decided to dispose of her hoodie. I juggled two pressing needs: 1) Protect the nethers. 2) Leer

I started to put my phone back in my bag when Ozzy yelled out, his accent so thick, I was only half certain he said, "Where the foock are ya goin'?" Uncle Bob jumped. I must've turned on my GPS. "You have to tahn the foock around. You're in the middle of foockin' nowhere." "What the hell is that?" Uncle Bob asked, almost swerving off the road. "Sorry, it's Ozzy." I grabbed my phone and turned down the volume. "He's so demanding." I pushed a few buttons to turn off the app, then put the phone to my ear. "Sweet, buttermilk pancakes, Ozzy, you have to stop calling me. You're a married man!" I pretended to hang up, then rolled my eyes. "Rock stars.

Is that it?” “No. That’s a wall.” “It could be disguised.” “You’re not very good at looking for things, are you?” “I’m good at looking for walls. Look, I found another one.

Is there somebody out there? Amy, is that you?” her mother called. “No. Tell me this isn’t happening.” Quinn rested his forehead against hers. “Has she got a wiretap on you or something? I swear, she’s like a walking hard-on detector.” Amy bit her lip, trying not to laugh. Quinn levered himself up on his arms. “Mrs. P., if you value your life, you’ll go back inside and turn off the light right now.

Is the Fey also in the bed?" his tone was flat. I reached over and shoved Grant off the bed. "No?" "Seriously, Kia?" he demanded. "You're making me feel bad about my life choices!

Is there anything in your life trying to slip off? Is your health threatening to leave you? Is your joy threatening to go? Is your job in jeopardy? Is your marriage shaking? Is there anything that you have been looking for in life? Is there anything near you that is about leaving you? Is there anything that you ever lost that was so dear to you? Jesus asked me to tell you that whatever that is gone out of your hand will come back again. Whatever that has gone out of your hand that you need to stay back with you will come back again.

Is there a reason why you’re standing there, staring out the window and watching the neighbors? Are we preparing to kill them and drag them down to the basement and bury them alive?

I stood in the corridor feeling like an angry pebble. It didn't matter where I rolled off to. The mystery and treachery of the world continued, and a pebble like me could get angry over anything it liked and it wouldn't do any good. Librarians not reading, I thought to myself. Sometimes I don't know why I bother.

I stifled a yawn. "It's too early to be such an asshat, Daniel.

I stroke a finger over my own top button, undo it, then let my hand drop with an exaggerated sigh. "It's not quite the same," I declare, "ripping my own clothes off.

I suddenly realise that it doesn't matter how far I go, or how lost I am, or how lonely I feel. I fit in here. I always will. That's how I know I'm home.

I suppose there are some advantages to this place,' he admitted. 'I bet it's fucking raining in Stirling.

I switched to wine – for better or worse and carried over – rather shuffled back to the table with an overflowing pint of ‘Jimmie Crickets Finest Burning Bum Bitter,’ or words to that effect. Is there such a thing as one-word bitter anymore? ‘Sgt Stiffies Severed Nippy.’ ‘Hair Of The Bastard Dog That Bit Me.’ ‘The Devils Own Salty Piss.’ I’ve never had a pallet for bitter. I was mainly a girly-drink-drunk.

I suffered a serious brain injury when I was a child. I blame my twisted sense of humor and everything in this book on that injury.

I surround myself with all eight throw pillows while hugging two. “What is so bad and uninteresting about me, Alex? Peter was the fifth break up– “–Sixth–” “–Sixth break up in the last two years. And I’m always the dumpee. Are my conversations that boring that no man wants to stay?” “Sandra, with this topic, yes. But usually, no.

Is your wife the devil? That is the reason the bible says we should cast out devil. Is your husband the devil? The bible still repeat cast out the devil. How can you reach your world if you can't reach your home? How do you expect to win the whole world if you can't win in your house.

I suppose we should contact the local authorities?” said Wilbur. “I’m a princess,” said Harriet. “We’re in the hamster kingdom. I kinda am the authorities.” “Yeah, but you’re more a hitting-things-with-a-sword princess than a rehabilitating-villains princess.” “Being hit with a sword can be very rehabilitating, under the right circumstances.

I swear to hold my tongue about it till the end of your worship's days, and God grant I may be able to let it out tomorrow

I swiftly discovered that there are few things in DIY (and possibly life) that can't be solved with a large mallet, a bag of ten-centimetre nails and some swearing.

I suppose we should send someone to make sure the queen does not come to the wall also,” the king jested. “I would say that it is too late for that, my lord,” a feminine voice answered from the group gathered in the courtyard. They all turned to find the queen dressed in chain mail and wearing a conical helmet on her head.

Is your name even David?' I asked as I yanked my panties back on. 'Is yours Melanie?' he inquired, buttoning his jeans. 'I asked first,' I countered, wondering for the umpteenth time why being an idiot came so easily to me.

I suppose I should include Uncle Jimmy, Aunt Alexandra’s husband, but as he never spoke a word to me in my life except to say, “Get off the fence,” once, I never saw any reason to take notice of him. Neither did Aunt Alexandra. Long ago, in a burst of friendliness, Aunt and Uncle Jimmy produced a son named Henry, who left home as soon as was humanly possible, married, and produced Francis. Henry and his wife deposited Francis at his grandparents’ every Christmas, then pursued their own pleasures.

I suppose it's impossible to say that they will not invent anything else, because they might," said Zubria. "And, of course, if one thought of something that they might invent, one would have thought of it oneself, therefore one would be the inventor of what one thought of, and they would not be, which would make one an inventor, like them.

I take the precaution of wearing proper, decent clothes when changing a light bulb in case I get zapped and die.

Tallish. Check. Built like a bull. Check. Were there tingles in her downstairs department? Mmhmm. Check. Her pearly gates had gone into override and the doors were ready to burst open.

It appears that countless women born between the years of 1965 and 1978 are in love with John Cusack. I cannot fathom how he isn't the number-one box office star in America, because every straight girl I know would seel her soul to share a milkshake with that motherfucker.

It also makes my father right again. How will I ever soar with the eagles if I'm surrounded by turkeys?

It commenced raining one day and did not stop for two months. We went through ever different kind of rain they is, cep'n maybe sleet or hail. It was little tiny stinging rain sometimes, an big ole fat rain at others. It came sidewise an straight down an sometimes even seem to stand up from the ground. Nevertheless, we was expected to do our shit, which was mainly walking upland down the hills an stuff looking for gooks.

It'd be funny if one of them was called Gavin. Funny but irrelevant.

It did not cross the minds of most Hindus that barring exceptions, they were responsible for Catholicism in India. The outcastes of Hinduism, the untouchables, who fell beyond the pale of the caste system had ample reason to convert to Catholicism. The caste-Hindus, as a matter of fact, left them no choice. As sub-humans they were little better than slaves.

It goes without saying that even those of us who are going to hell will get eternal life—if that territory really exists outside religious books and the minds of believers, that is. Having said that, given the choice, instead of being grilled until hell freezes over, the average sane human being would, needless to say, rather spend forever idling in an extremely fertile garden, next to a lamb or a chicken or a parrot, which they do not secretly want to eat, and a lion or a tiger or a crocodile, which does not secretly want to eat them.

I tell myself not to feel sexually threatened. I am of no special interest; he could just as easily be angling for the printer.

I tend to throw tantrums a lot. Wear a helmet in my presence.

It gathers emotionally inside you, in a strange way a by-product of struggle, of a willingness to do anything, try anything, expose yourself to anything — staying in motion because sooner or later those ripples will cause change.

It had been at least two weeks since Mortimer had escaped and re-entered Darkvoid Dimension and he still felt as if one of the ‘Tweenies’ had picked up ‘Dougal’ and hurled him straight at his body. (This was in an alternate universe of course).

I think back to those days after the Bastille fell, the Mercure Nationale run from the back of the shop, that little Louise sticking her well-bred nose in the air and flouncing off to bawl out their printer—and you know, he was a good lad, François. I’d say, ‘Go and do this, this, this, go and tie some bricks to your boots and jump in the Seine,’ and he‘d”— Danton touched an imaginary forelock—‘right away, Georges-Jacques, and do you need any shopping while I’m out?’ Jesus, what a way to end up. When you see him, tell him I’d be obliged if he forgets he knows me.

I think if Jeremy Corbyn got a cloak, he'd make a very good Gandalf.

I think I know where my life went wrong. For all the world's a stage and I'm a lousy actor!

I think I’ll give the Cage of Death a miss too,” I said. Crocodiles were fascinating creatures, like living dinosaurs, but they could do their living over there somewhere, far away from me.

I think people don’t think I work, because I wear stilettos and look damn fine. But that’s discrimination against stilettos and against looking damn fine! And I object to this form of discrimination!

I think she’s too ignorant to be a witch.

I think you're a shit,’ said Keith sharply. ‘I think much of what you’ve done this season is shit and I think what you've put everyone involved with this club through is shit. How’s that?

I think that people's sexual preferences are a legitimate subject for humour, dirty humour if at all possible.

I thought he said you weren’t drunk if you could find your arse with both hands.” He eyed me appraisingly. “I hate to tell ye, Sassenach, but it’s not your arse ye’ve got hold of—it’s mine.” “That’s all right,” I assured him. “We’re married. Share and share alike. One flesh; the priest said so.

I thought the trees down in Lady Zelana’s country were about as big as a tree could get,” he said, “but the ones around here are so tall that they probably tickle the moon’s tummy when she goes by.

I think this goat must have been fed on old boots,' Stubble complained as he chewed the last scraps of flesh from the bones littering his stew.

I thought Karabekean with his meaningless pictures had entered into a conspiracy with millionaires to make poor people feel stupid