Best 3518 quotes in «humour quotes» category

She opened her mouth, clamped it shut again. This was new, this sudden favor shown Gloucester, had been brought back with him from Burgundy like some malevolent foreign pox.

She's always getting into trouble because she gets bored really really easily. [...] My mum says it's because Celia has an attention span the size of a sesame seed. Celia's mum says it's because Celia's identity is unfurling itself slowly, like a tulip bud, and it's a breathtakingly beautiful thing to see.

She recalled him as a forceful and witty speaker with a ready repartee and a penetrating voice. He had once, for example, put down a spokesman for the pesticide industry with a remark that people still quoted at parties: "And I presume on the eighth day God called you and said, 'I changed my mind about insects!

She scarcely spoke at all and might have been one of those huge dolls which, when inclined backwards, say "Ma-ma" or "Pa-pa": though impossible to imagine in any position so undignified as that required for the mechanism to produce these syllables.

She seems somewhat morose and out of sorts. Do you beat her often?' 'I must admit that I do not.' 'There is the answer! Beat her well; beat her often! It will bring roses to her cheeks! There is nothing better to induce good cheer in a woman than a fine constitutional beating.

She sighed and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "How comfortable this is! she said. "And so delightfully vulgar! Does plain Mr Dash put his arm round ladies in hackney coaches?" "When not in gaol he does," the Duke responded.

She shivered as he left her to go to the fire, and find water and cloths. He leaned into the light, and brightness and shadows moved across his body. He was beautiful. She admired him, and he flashed a grin at her. Almost as beautiful as you are conceited, she thought at him, and he laughed out loud.

She's nice," he says. His compliment warms me. "That's it?" the third one replies with a stamp of her foot. She shoves his shoulder and pouts, her lips a brilliant shade of coral. "Sh's a little stubborn." I smile. "Can be a bit impulsive or reckless," he adds. I scoff. Bree chuckles.

She started naming the fish. 'Loppy, Troppy, Hoppy, Soppy, Boppy, Floppy, Moppy and Roppy.

She’s twenty-one and just by her hairstyle you can tell she’s saving IT for the man she will marry. It’s short at the sides and high on top, with a sideburn-length curl in front each ear. Look around you next time you’re out strolling, there’s hordes of them like her. They all wore braces when they were kids, played a lot of sports, were considered tom-boys, spent endless hours worrying about pimples, black-heads and acne, and wanted only one thing out of life-- get married and be a loving motherto both their children and their husband. In the meantime, they work at meaningful jobs like teaching and nursing until the Right Man comes along. They’re the reason Canadian men are amongst the most neurotic, childish and apathetic males on the Western continent. They need the challenge of a mature woman in order to bring out their maturity, and instead they’re offered mamas. Yet it isn’t the girls’ fault. After all they’re only being what men want them to be, what they think men want them to be. And vice-versa. Both sexes being what they think the other wants them to be and neither one really knowing because they’ve never asked their opposite what they would like, and this total absence of communication being the root cause of this great void between modern man and woman

She's so the same and yet so the incomparable!

She stopped and looked at him when she heard a low growl. "You've kissed someone?" Sally tried to hold back the snort of laughter that bubble out. "Of course. I'm eighteen, Costin. Only having kissed one guy by eighteen is pretty darn conservative." "I don't want to know about this guy," Costin frowned. "He won't hold a candle to my kisses anyway.

She told me later that her parents had told her to steer clear of me at school. "My mum said that nobody really knew where you came from. And that you might be dangerous." "Why didn't you listen to her?" I asked. "Because nobody knew where you came from, Simon! And you might be dangerous!" "You have the worst survival instincts." "Also, I felt sorry for you," she said. "You were holding your wand backwards.

She tried not to think in capital letters. It was a bad habit. If you weren’t careful, pretty soon you’d find yourself Going to the Store to Buy a Carton of Milk—or worse, speaking German.

She tastes like Aquafresh.

She was an idiot. An adorable, gorgeous, feisty, funny, sweet, sexy idiot.

She was a bitch,' Carl suddenly heard somebody say in the background, and that apparently refreshed everyone's memory. Yes, thought Carl with satisfaction. It's the good stable arseholes like us who are remembered best.

She was looking at me as if I was a painting too, to be examined for symbols and meaning, and she couldn't decide in the end if I really was just a mass of pointless daubs

She was every inch the skeletal goddess that had been promised by the bones of her feet.

She was tempted to take the elevator instead of the stairs just this once. But that was how it started. Take the elevator tonight because she was tired and her feet hurt from having been trapped in three-inch stilettos all day, and then tomorrow she'd want to take it because she was running late. Then, the next thing she knew she'd be taking elevators all over the place because she got winded climbing stairs.

She was the Goddess Who Must Not Be Named; those who sought her never found her, yet she was known to come to the aid of those in greatest need. And, then again, sometimes she didn't. She was like that.

She whispers in my ear: ‘"Tell me that you wan' fuck me hard, make me sweat." In the excitement, she misses out a word. "I want to fuck you so hard that your body drips with sweat," I say, grammatically.

She wore a loose bathrobe that covered up a body that would have won first prize in a beauty contest for cement blocks.....She had a voice that made pearl harbour sound like a lullaby.

She would employ her teaching skills to ensure the conversation with the spirit world was orderly. She flexed her hands and cracked her knuckles.

Shithead Boss Man, eh? You know, Dylan, I really lucked out in the assistant department. The other partners in the firm have ended up with someone awful, who soothes them, is at their beck and call and agrees with them all the time. I got one who is sarcastic, argumentative, scruffy, rarely where he should be, and calls me Shithead Boss Man rather than Sir.” Jude laughs at him, before reaching out and swiping one of the prawns from my carton of sweet and sour. “He’d call you Sir if you spanked him.

Shocked my old friend from China, Deja Vu, when I turned up at his door without notice.

Should I get you a shovel so you can dig that hole a little deeper?

SHORE-LARK During the week, the shore-lark works in the City and flies home every night with its mate in Wimbledon, where it is a model husband and father. At weekends, however, it migrates briefly on Brighton, on any of one hundred pretexts, where is meets female shore-larks under the pier and seeks to recapture its lost youth.

Showing off is more ridiculous in instances where the thing that is being shown off was bought on credit.

Since I didn't have a candy wrapper to help me with the bad connection I was about to have, I resorted to using vocal sound effects. When Agent Carson picked up, I started my performance. "Agent... Agent Carson," I said, panting into the phone. "Yes, Charley." She seemed unimpressed, but I wasn't about to stop now. "I--I know who the kshshshshshsh are." "I'm a little busy right now, Davidson. What is a Ksh, and why do I care?" "I'm sorry. My kshshsh... is kshshsh... ing." I repeat. What is a Ksh? And why do I care if it is ksh-ing?" She was a tough one. I knew I should have waited and bought a Butterfinger at the Jug-N-Chug. Those wrappers crakled like Rice Krispies on a Saturday morning. "You aren't listeni--kshshsh." "You're really bad at this." "Bank ro-ksh-ers. I know who they kshshsh." "Charley, if you don't cut this crap out." I hung up and turned off my phone before she could figure out what I was trying not to tell her and call back.

Sir Bedevere: "Tell me, what do you do with witches?" Crowd: "Burn, burn them up!" Sir Bedevere: "And what do you burn apart from witches?" Villager: "More witches!

Sion calls Anne an eel, he calls her a slippery dipper from the slime, and he remembers what the cardinal had called her: my serpentine enemy. Sion says, she goes to it with her brother; he says, what, her brother George? ‘Any brother she's got. Those kind keep it in the family. They do filthy French tricks, like –’ ‘Can you keep your voice down?’ He looks around, as if spies might be swimming by the boat. ‘– and that's how she trusts herself she don't give in to Henry, because if she lets him do it and she gets a boy he's, thanks very much, now clear off, girl – so she's oh, Your Highness, I never could allow – because she knows that very night her brother's inside her, licking her up to the lungs, and then he's, excuse me, sister, what shall I do with this big package – she says, oh,don't distress yourself, my lord brother, shove it up the back entry, it'll come to no harm there.

Si rien n'est plus rare que ce qui ne se produit pas souvent, en revanche, rien n'est plus fréquent que ce qui arrive constamment. Pierre Dac dans "Arrière-pensées

Sir Hamish Graham has many of the qualities & most of the failings that result from being born to a middle-class Scottish family. He was well educated, hard working & honest, while at the same time being narrow-minded, uncompromising & proud.

Sirius looked about as intelligent as the temple cats who liked to chase their own tails.

Si vous n'êtes plus capable de faire la différence entre Laura et une image, je vous plains, monsieur Valence. La vie ne doit pas être marrante.

Size definitely counts: some things are too small … and some are too big.

Skul-man!' he exclaimed as he rushed forward to shake his hand. 'Last I heard you were trapped on a dead world overrun by evil trans-dimensional superfiends!' Skulduggery nodded. 'Just got back.

Sit Down - What to do if a parent wants to get their child's attention.

Sleepwalking is the perfect exorcise for lazy people

Smile and make someone's day better

Smirking, he says, "Whatever spell you just tried to cast on me, it didn't work, so I think you need to go back to Hogwarts.

Smoky knickers. Always said you were hot stuff,” he said. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at the same time. It made me so dizzy that I almost fell over. Men.

Snow stepped forward and slapped Josette, who slapped her back. Emmaline dropped the spoon and slapped them both - she had never slapped her child, or any child, before that moment. It happened so quickly - like a scene choreographed by the Three Stooges, which was what saved it. Emmaline started crying, then Snow. The three of them clung together. I want to cut off my hand, wept Emmaline. I never slapped you girls before. We should each cut our hands off, wailed Snow. Then making frybread two of us will have to stand together, you know, like each use our remaining hand, pat, pat. Josette and Snow demonstrated. Pat, pat, how pitiful, cry-laughed Emmaline.

So a good man can be a bad Christian?" "I suppose so." "Then a bad man," I said, "can be a good Christian?

Smile makes women smarter, humour makes men handsome.

So Basically I'm the Antichrist , and the whole world is fucked because of me" - Jordon Hanson.

SOD YOU, THEN, Death said.

Sofia the kind of woman no matter what she have in her hand she make it look like a weapon.

So,” he began, after several minutes of silence, “how much did it kill you having to text me?” I chuckled. “A lot. I was just glad I didn’t throw away the receipt – I didn’t fancy digging through bags of rubbish.” Danny threw me another half-smile. “So you didn’t throw it out after all? I knew it!” I rolled my eyes. “Your arrogance astounds me … could you be anymore conceited?” “Could you be anymore attracted to me?” He quipped back. I scoffed at him. “In your dreams! Do you really get girls like this?” He quirked an eyebrow and flashed me that adorable crooked grin. “Many. Why – you jealous?” “Hardly,” I shot back at him, “you’re not my type so don’t flatter yourself.” He shrugged. “One hour with me turning on the charm and you’d be singing a different tune … trust me on that.” I laughed. “You know there’s a fine line between being charming and being cocky … and you my friend, fall into the latter. And it’s not something to be proud of – it’s not an attractive quality.” Danny smirked yet again. “Ouch. You really know how to insult a guy. Are you always this pleasant?” “Are you always this obnoxious?” I retorted back. “Ooh touché. You know – if I didn’t know any better – I’d almost mistake your frostiness for flirting.” He flashed me another half-smile and threw me a knowing look. I rolled my eyes again. “Well you would, wouldn’t you Mr Overly-sure-of-himself?” I watched as his confidence seemed to go into overdrive. “Say what you will, but I know you’re secretly charmed by me.” I shrugged. “Whatever … just don’t be too disappointed when I don’t fall at your feet.” He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Well, try not to be too surprised when you do.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t hold your breath.