Best 3518 quotes in «humour quotes» category

Manet also had an argument with Degas, the end result being that they each returned paintings that they had previous given to each other.

Manners are for those who have neither beauty or talent but want people to like them despite their lack of attractions

Manners, you see, come down to a single principle: talk of nothing that might actually prove interesting.

Man may change, government may change, people may change but Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever.

Man's panic does not produce God's power.....sometimes you need to pray before you post on social media.

Many a death was precipitated by the food, the job, or the medication whose main function was to postpone it.

Many a man was caused to perish by something that he and many men cherish.

Many a survivor of a plane crash who is or was against cannibalism and had never eaten human flesh once found themselves in a situation where they had to either eat human flesh, or go the way of all flesh.

Many a woman is in a relationship with or married to her man not because she loves him but only because she likes men like him.

Many a woman would not be in a relationship with or married to her man, if he earned half of what he earns; and many a man would not be in a relationship with or married to his woman, if he earned twice as much as he earns.

Many if not most slaves would have each readily jumped, and many if not most slaves would each readily jump, at the opportunity to be a master, if such an opportunity presents or had presented itself.

Many of the boys and men who are regarded as immature by some females are so deemed merely because they do not want to get married someday … or soon.

Maple thought optimistically that human beings, on their good days, weren't much dimmer than sheep. Or at least, not much dimmer than dim sheep.

Mark Twain said the difference between the right word and the almost right word is like the difference between lightning and the lightning bug, and people think he was good, right ? Didn't write any decent characters, as far as I can tell, but otherwise fine.

Marcus looked down. “Ah, man! This was my favorite shirt. Who tore it?” he asked, trying to pull the ragged edges together.

Marcus woke again to find Sanga lying asleep on his bed, and he quietly climbed off his own mattress, standing still for a moment to allow the slight feeling of dizziness to pass. Walking quietly on bare feet, he made his way up the corridor to the latrine, then went in search of his wife. Felicia was delighted to see him on his feet, despite her immediate concern for his well-being, which were quickly dispelled when he waved her away and turned a full circle with his arms out. ‘Well, you seem to be spry enough that I think we can assume the effects of the mandrake have completely worn off. You won’t be able to speak or eat solid food for some time yet though.’ ‘And that’s why I brought this for him.’ They turned to find the tribune standing in the doorway with a smile on his face, a small iron pot dangling from one hand. ‘There’s a food shop at the end of the street whose proprietress was only too happy to lend me the pot in the likelihood of getting your business for the next few weeks. Pass me a cup and I’ll pour you some.’ Marcus found his glass drinking tube and took a sip at the soup, nodding his thanks to the tribune. Scaurus sat in silence until the cup was empty, watching as the hungry centurion consumed the soup as quickly as its temperature would allow. ‘That’s better, eh? There’s more in the pot for when I’m gone. I’d imagine you’ll be spending another night in here just to be sure you’re over the worst of it, but that ought to keep you going until morning. And now, Centurion, to business? First Spear Frontinius tells me that you passed a message requesting a conversation with me, although from the look of things most of the speaking will be done by me.’ Marcus nodded, reaching for his tablet and writing several lines of text. He handed the wooden case to Scaurus, who read the words and stared back at his centurion with his eyebrows raised in astonishment. ‘Really? You’re sure of this?’ After thinking for a moment, Marcus held out his hand and took the tablet back. He smoothed the wax and wrote another statement. Scaurus looked grimly at the text, shaking his head. ‘You got that close to him?’ Marcus wrote in the tablet again. Scaurus read the text aloud, a wry smile on his face. ‘“Take a tent party with you.” A tent party? I’ll need a damned century if he’s as dangerous as you say. And the nastiest, most bad-tempered officer in the First Cohort. Do any names spring to mind, Centurion?

Marketing is so powerful that it can make even an extremely untalented musician a one-hundred-hits wonder.

Mark Spitz didn't ask about Harry. You never asked about the characters that disappeared from a Last Night story. You knew the answer. The plague had a knack for narrative closure.

Marines either know how to use an iron or they get married [...]. The iron is less dangerous.

Mark sighed to himself as he walked home. The afternoon was unexpectedly warm, the sky deep blue and cloudless. You figure her out, he told himself. You're the expert. Mark Carney, girl expert. Everyone should ask me for advice. I know everything about girls, except how to get along with them, how to get along without them, and how to understand them. And I can't even worry about Marcy right now because I've got a date with Janine.

Mary was bigger than Laura, and she had a rag doll named Nettie. Laura had only a corncob wrapped in a handkerchief, but it was a good doll. It was named Susan. It wasn't Susan's fault that she was only a corncob. Sometimes Mary let Laura hold Nettie, but she did it only when Susan couldn't see.

Mary, you know I hate parties. My idea of hell is a very large party in a cold room where everybody has to play hockey properly.

Marriages fail because they are either taken too seriously or taken for granted. They should be taken rather like coffee – not too cold and not too hot. If too bitter, should be sweetened a little with sugar. If too dark, should be lightened a little with milk. ~Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu

Married, married. My ring on your finger. Yours on mine. Till death do us part,” he rattles off. “Come on Mabes, it’s the next logical step. We’ve been living together for long enough. It’s time to make an honest man out of me.” “We’ve been living together for five hours,” I say, looking at the clock. He shrugs. “When it’s right, it’s right.

Marry, don't marry,' Auntie Aya says as we unfold layers of dough to make an apple strudel. Just don't have your babies unless it's absolutely necessary.' How do I know if it's necessary?' She stops and stares ahead, her hands gloved in flour. 'Ask yourself, Do I want a baby or do I want to make a cake? The answer will come to you like bells ringing.' She flickers her fingers in the air by her ear. 'For me, almost always, the answer was cake.

Marry me. You'll learn to love me, I promise.

Maruman does not loll.

... Mary bit her lip. “She is merely saying hello.” Oh, I am, Tottie agreed. I’ve been wanting to say hello to Mr. Jack for an age, personal-like. Her hand glided over his chest and headed down. Such a fine cocky fella, ye are. Shall we see if it’s all just tall tales, then, me lad?

Mary, we met in a pub. As you weren’t banging a tambourine, I understand you weren’t selling the word of God.

Materialism is the KFC of the soul

Master Ren: "Inquisitrix! Be warned: I am commander Ren Mormorian, apprentice nekomancer to the great and ancient two-faced Zorian of Whiteclaw House! I have raised the ancient dead! I have fought the wraithmen of the Forsaken Forests! Cross me at your own peril! You can't blame a cat for trying. Flee!

mates, to my sisters and me, are seen mainly as shadows of the people they're involved with. they move. They're visible in direct sunlight. But because they don't have access to our emotional buttons-- because they can't make us twelve again, or five, and screaming-- they don't really count as players.

Maxim 36: When the going gets tough, the tough call for close air support. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Maxim 4: Close air support covereth a multitude of sins. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Maxim 6: If violence wasn't your last resort, you failed to resort to enough of it. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Matt shrugged. It was a good shrug, too. All it was missing was a beret, a stripy shirt and a Gauloise cigarette.

Maxim 11: Everything is air-droppable at least once. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

May a man live well-, and long-enough, to leave many joyful widows behind him.

Matthias joined them at the table. "The Shu woman we faced was stronger than me, Jesper, and Wylan put together." "You heard right," said Jesper. "Stronger than Wylan.

Maxim 29: The enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy. No more. No less. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Maxim 37: There is no "overkill." There is only "open fire" and "reload." -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Maxim 8: Mockery and derision have their place. Usually, it's on the far side of the airlock. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Max looked around. "Where's your mutt?" "Right here, asleep. He won't bite you again. I've talked to him about it, and he's really sorry

Maxim 16: Your name is in the mouth of others: be sure it has teeth. -The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

Matthias joined them at the table. "The Shu woman we faced was stronger than me, Jesper, and Wylan put together." "You hear right," said Jesper. "Stronger than Wylan.

Mavis' bear sailed through the air in Cassie's room, falling onto the bed. 'What's he in aid of?' 'He's reconnaissance expert. He wouldn't hear of me enterin' potential hostile ground without testin' for fire. Has his sacrifice been in vain?

Max?' he asked. 'Yeah?' '...What are you doing?' 'Shooting people.

Maxwell D. Kalist is a receiving teller at a city bank, Orwell and Finch, where he runs an efficient department of twenty two clerks and twelve junior clerks. He carries a leather-bound vade mecum everywhere with him – a handbook of the most widely contravened banking rules. He works humourlessly (on the surface of it) in a private, perfectly square office on the third floor of a restored grain exchange midway along the Eastern flank of Květniv’s busy, modern central plaza. Behind his oblong slate desk and black leather swivel chair is an intimidating, three-storey wall made almost entirely of bevelled, glare-reducing grey glass in art-deco style; one hundred and thirty six rectangles of gleam stacked together in a dangerously heavy collage.

May 29, the Central Committee of the Sections goes into “permanent session” — what a fine, crisis-ridden sound it has, that term!

Maybe people do like wine. It's not as nice as just eating the grapes, but it's okay.