Best 841 quotes in «irony quotes» category

So, like I said, these are a bunch of really sweet guys, but you wouldn't want to share a Galaxy with them, not if they're just gonna keep at it, not if they're not gonna learn to relax a little. I mean it's just gonna be continual nervous time, isn't it, right? Pow, pow, pow, when are they next coming at us? Peaceful coexistence is just right out, right? Get me some water somebody, thank you." He sat back and sipped reflectively. OK," he said, "hear me, hear me. It's, like, these guys, you know, are entitled to their own view of the Universe. And according to their view, which the Universe forced on them, right, they did right. Sounds crazy, but I think you'll agree. They believe in ..." He consulted a piece of paper which he found in the back pocket of his Judicial jeans. They believe in `peace, justice, morality, culture, sport, family life, and the obliteration of all other life forms'.

So long as our parents are alive, we are children. Then we become childish.

Some irony. The girl who couldn't face her own bullshit . . . suddenly forcing everyone else to.

Some [jests] are becoming to a gentleman, others are not; see that you choose such as become you. Irony better befits a gentleman than buffoonery; the ironical man jokes to amuse himself, the buffoon to amuse other people.

So many authors, so little time to disqualify them!

Sometimes it might be kinder to kill a man, than to take his dreams from him.

Sometimes stupid is right," Megan said, then paused. "Hell. I hope nobody ever quotes me on that one.

Some people do not afford a healthy diet and lifestyle because of their health insurance.

Some quotes aren't worth typing.

Sometimes, to fix something, you need to completely ruin something else

sometimes when everything seems at its worst when all conspires and gnaws and the hours, days, weeks years seem wasted – stretched there upon my bed in the dark looking upward at the ceiling i get what many will consider an obnoxious thought: it’s still nice to be Bukowski.

Some women walk towards a better future. Others have chauffeurs.

Sooner or later, all talk among foreigners in Pyongyang turns to one imponderable subject. Do the locals really believe what they are told, and do they truly revere Fat Man and Little Boy? I have been a visiting writer in several authoritarian and totalitarian states, and usually the question answers itself. Someone in a café makes an offhand remark. A piece of ironic graffiti is scrawled in the men's room. Some group at the university issues some improvised leaflet. The glacier begins to melt; a joke makes the rounds and the apparently immovable regime suddenly looks vulnerable and absurd. But it's almost impossible to convey the extent to which North Korea just isn't like that. South Koreans who met with long-lost family members after the June rapprochement were thunderstruck at the way their shabby and thin northern relatives extolled Fat Man and Little Boy. Of course, they had been handpicked, but they stuck to their line. There's a possible reason for the existence of this level of denial, which is backed up by an indescribable degree of surveillance and indoctrination. A North Korean citizen who decided that it was all a lie and a waste would have to face the fact that his life had been a lie and a waste also. The scenes of hysterical grief when Fat Man died were not all feigned; there might be a collective nervous breakdown if it was suddenly announced that the Great Leader had been a verbose and arrogant fraud. Picture, if you will, the abrupt deprogramming of more than 20 million Moonies or Jonestowners, who are suddenly informed that it was all a cruel joke and there's no longer anybody to tell them what to do. There wouldn't be enough Kool-Aid to go round. I often wondered how my guides kept straight faces. The streetlights are turned out all over Pyongyang—which is the most favored city in the country—every night. And the most prominent building on the skyline, in a town committed to hysterical architectural excess, is the Ryugyong Hotel. It's 105 floors high, and from a distance looks like a grotesquely enlarged version of the Transamerica Pyramid in San Francisco (or like a vast and cumbersome missile on a launchpad). The crane at its summit hasn't moved in years; it's a grandiose and incomplete ruin in the making. 'Under construction,' say the guides without a trace of irony. I suppose they just keep two sets of mental books and live with the contradiction for now.

Soon, she and the rest of them would be ironic much of the time, unable to answer an innocent question without giving their words a snide little adjustment. Fairly soon after that, the snideness would soften, the irony would be mixed in with seriousness, and the years would shorten and fly.

So simple yet so complex. We are the source of it all. Currently the currency that exist is our credit from God but instead of the credit given to God, we worship what was created instead of the Creator. You can never truly have ownership of the created and ownership of the created isn't only currency but you as well. Serve the Creator and you take ownership of you which is property of God.

So the reason I was struck again and again was because of my overwhelmingly positive energy. Funny, I'd always thought of myself as a pessimist.

So this was the Ashram's final joke on me? Once I had learned to accept my loud, chatty, social nature and fully embrace my inner Key Hostess - only then could I become The Quiet Girl in the Back of the Temple, after all?

So we came to say hello. To the world’s grouchiest person. Because that’s such fun.

So you thought you could shit and eat at the same time. How disgustingly convenient.

So your High Priest and Sacerdote propose to kill Death.” Edroc

Sometimes the pen speaks louder than the mouth" RjS

Strange Type I wrote: in the dark cavern of our birth. The printer had it tavern, which seems better: But herein lies the subject of our mirth, Since on the next page death appears as dearth. So it may be that God’s word was distraction, Which to our strange type appears destruction, Which is bitter.

Strange that an article like sugar, so sweet and necessary to human existence, should have occasioned such crimes and bloodshed!

sometimes there is too much irony all piled up in the barn, and you have to / pitchfork another steaming pile of irony on top of it all, and you have to / pitchfork another, and another, and another / when the world is shit-streaked with irony that is when beauty will emerge / love is irony / purists sure hate farce / but pushing against things is the only possible way to live

Such is the irony of life,» Kruppe proclaimed, raising one pastry-filled hand over his head, «that one learns to distrust the obvious, surrendering instead to insidious suspicion and confused conclusion. But, is Kruppe deceived? Can an eel swim? Hurrah, these seeming muddy waters are home to Kruppe, and his eyes are wide with wonder.

Suddenly, she employed those very English weapons: devious good manners and a rapid change of subject.

Suddenly the thought that the end of her life was imminent shocked him; it was one thing to pity someone he didn't know, quite another to face the same dilemma with someone he knew intimately. That was the trouble with beds. They turned strangers into intimates more quickly than ten years of polite teas in parlours.

Thank heaven for people who are satisfied with facts that conform to the reality they wish to believe.

Thanks,” Johann finally said. “It’s the irony of war. Those who want to live, die. Those who want to die, live on.

That Jim Crow there in the window," answered the urchin, holding out a cent, and pointing to the gingerbread figure that had attracted his notice, as he loitered along to school; "the one that has not a broken foot.

That's the unforgivable sin, you know." "What is?" "Refusing to forgive someone." "Refusing to forgive someone is the unforgivable sin?" I asked incredulously.

Stop your idiocy, Sandra, please. For once in your death.

The apparently bottomless gulf between what we say we want and why we do want, between what we officially admire and secretly desire, between, in the largest sense, the people we marry and the people we love.

The Bible appears to be the most revered book never read.

The bible is so simple you have to have someone else help you misunderstand it..

The biggest irony in the history of India is the term, "Muslim Personal Law." Law of the land could never be personal.

The book didn't want to be copied? I should introduce it to the house that doesn't want any occupants.

The blessing of the omnivore is that he can eat a great many different things in nature. The curse of the omnivore is that when it comes to figuring out which of those things are safe to eat, he's pretty much on his own.

The cave floor rumbled. A large stone emerged from the dirt-a smooth, oval rock exactly the same size and weight as a baby god... She wrapped the stone in swaddling clothes and gave the real baby Zeus to the nymphs to take care of... She marched right up to King Cannibal and shouted, "This is the best baby yet! A fine little boy named, uh, Rocky!

The Cinderella story in reverse. I only wish there were ashes in the fireplace so I could order you to sweep them out.

The day terrorists realize there acts unite us, they might switch places with Politicians.

The days are numbered for those bums over in England." German Tank commander

The definition of irony - A Pope who refuses to give law enforcement the names of hundreds (or maybe thousands) of predatory homosexual pedophile priests around the world, then claiming that gay marriage will be the world's undoing. (Speaking of Benedict the XVI.)

The eye-roll is a 10.5 on the Ritcher. The Big One. California has slipped into the ocean.

The differences between women are all cosmetic.

The dimple in his left cheek was ironic-it gave the impression that he was sweet as a cupcake. (Dark City Lights)

The first thing they would do would be to open my mouth and extract the soggy ball of my handkerchief, and as they spread it out flat on the table beside my white remains, an orange stamp—a stamp belonging to the King—would flutter to the floor: It was like something right out of Agatha Christie.

The Foreign Crown is no match to the Crown of Thorns. Which side will you choose? It's all subliminal but deep with a purpose as if I do it intentional

The Emperor, you see, protects... He protects mankind, through the Legions, through the Martial corps, through the war machines of the Mechanicum. He understands the dangers. The inconsistencies. He uses you, and all the instruments like you, to protect us from harm. To protect our physical bodies from murder and damage, to protect our minds from madness, to protect our souls... There are insane dangers in the cosmos, dangers that mankind is fundamentally unable to comprehend, let alone survive. So he protects us. There are truths out there that would drive us mad by one fleeting glimpse of them. So he chooses not to share them with us. That's why he made you... Remember, Garviel. The Emperor is our truth and out light. If we trust in him, he will protect.

The greatest irony is that people with Rolodexes are no longer LinkedIn. And if that pun doesn't make sense, don’t ask anyone in your Rolodex to explain it.