Best 3653 quotes in «humorous quotes» category

He left not knowing where he was going, he got there not knowing where he was, and he came back not knowing where he had been. But history books will point out Columbus as the person who made the Americas available for exploitation. I guess I can make the same kind of ridiculous claim.

Hello, little girl," he said, which was only his first big mistake. "I'm sure you want to know all about hedgehogs, eh?" "I did this one last year," said Tiffany. The man looked closer, and his grin faded. "Oh, yes," he said. "I remember. You asked all those... little questions." "I would like a question answered today," said Tiffany. "Provided it's not one about how you get baby hedgehogs," said the man. "No," said Tiffany patiently. "It's about zoology." "Zoology, eh? That's a big word, isn't it." "No, actually it isn't," said Tiffany. "Patronizing is a big word. Zoology is really quite small.

He (Lincoln) differed from fanatical moralists primarily in that he was always perplexed. No sooner did he believe he was doing God's will that he began to admit that God's purposes might be different from his own. In short, he never forgot the men's contrast between the absolute goodness of God and the faltering goodness of all who are in the finite predicament.

Hello there," Inigo hollered when he could wait no more. The man in black glanced up and grunted. "I've been watching you." The man in black nodded. "Slow going," Inigo said. "Look, I don't mean to be rude," the man in black said finally, "but I'm rather busy just now, so try not to distract me." "I'm sorry," Inigo said. The man in black grunted again. "I don't suppose you could speed things up," Inigo said. "If you want to speed things up so much," the man in black said, clearly quite angry now, "you could lower a rope or a tree branch or find some other helpful thing to do.

He may wear what he likes in the future, for I shall never drive with him again. His conduct was shocking. When we passed Highgate Archway, he tried to pass everything and everybody. He shouted to respectable people who were walking quietly in the road to get out of the way; he flicked at the horse of an old man who was riding, causing it to rear; and, as I had to ride backwards, I was compelled to face a gang of roughs in a donkey-cart, whom Lupin had chaffed, and who turned and followed us for nearly a mile, bellowing, indulging in coarse jokes and laughter, to say nothing of occasionally pelting us with orange-peel.

He pulled out a dagger from ... she wasn't sure where. Did he have that in his loin cloth? What else does he have in there? (Amy's thoughts, The Witching Pen)

He needed to get involved with a virgin like he needed to get shot in the head.

He never did get right all the way again. And every once in a while he'd come down all bitey.

He pressed his forehead against mine, stared soulfully into my eyes, and smiled. I smiled back and was about to drag him inside my room, when his smile turned to a grin and he chuckled. Then he guffawed, and seconds later he was leaning against the wall, holding his stomach, laughing and begging for mercy. So much for the famous unruffled calm of the British secret agent.

...Here, beast, you shall be the chairman, and mind you call us to order." He leaned forward and dropped the cat on the empty seat.

Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man".

Here Lies Constatijn, slain by the first penis he saw that wasn't his own.

Here's my using dickwad in a sentence. Greg is such a dickwad, he locks his car in the Pagoda Pizza parking lot. (No. That isn't a real Vocab word.)

Her Majesty to the theatre. The performance took place on a stage erected in the courtyard, and Her Majesty closed in one part of her veranda for the use of the guests and Court ladies. During the performance I began to feel very drowsy, and eventually fell fast asleep leaning against one of the pillars. I awoke rather suddenly to find that something had been dropped into my mouth, but on investigation I found it was nothing worse than a piece of candy, which I immediately proceeded to eat. On approaching Her Majesty, she asked me how I had enjoyed the candy, and told me not to sleep, but to have a good time like the rest. I never saw Her Majesty in better humor. She played with us just like a young girl, and one could hardly recognize in her the severe Empress Dowager we knew her to be.

He said that it was very difficult to become an astronaut. I said that I knew. You had to become an officer in the air force and you had to take lots of orders and be prepared to kill other human beings, and I couldn't take orders. Also I didn't have 20/20 vision, which you needed to be a pilot.

He’s an even-tempered stallion. What he lacks in stamina he makes up for in speed, kind of like most of the men I’ve slept with.

He says in his defence he never meddled with married women, only with virgins.

He shouted into the phone, “That is fuckin’ awesome. I mean fuckin’ awesome. I fuckin’ mean fucking awesome. You are one Big Swinging Dick, and don’t ever let anybody tell you different.” It brought tears to my eyes to hear it, to be called a Big Swinging Dick by the man who, years ago, had given birth to the distinction and in my mind had the greatest right to confer it upon me.

He's gaining on us," the Turk said. "That is also inconceivable," the Sicilian said. "Before I stole this boat we're in, I made many inquiries as to what was the fastest ship on all of Florin Channel and everyone agreed it was this one." "You're right," the Turk agreed, staring back. "He isn't gaining on us. He's just getting closer, that's all.

He shifted his attention back to me and leaned in closer. “I told you to behave. I don’t want to have to arrest you ever again.” “Um . . . okay.” I felt him slide something under my hand. He leaned in even closer, his mouth by my ear, and whispered, “Although I wouldn’t mind handcuffing you.” Oh. My. God.

... he's most probably in a closet so deep he's, like, in Narnia.

...he spent whole days and nights over his books; and thus with little sleeping and much reading his brains dried up to such a degree that he lost the use of his reason.

He stares at me, not saying a word. I stare right back, lost in his eyes and determined to get my point across. If he wants to have a staring contest, he’ll lose, hands down. I know a good thing when I see it.

He stands confidently in his hot pink mankini. When I told him it was the only suit left, he literally shrugged and put it on. Tan skin, ripped abs and stylish wayfarers- he instantly looked cool even wearing that damn thing. And the girls playing water volleyball even gawked at his ass

He tells a story, and that's what I like. Does this fella tell a story? He doesn't spend twenty pages describing the colour of the sky?' 'He hasn't so far.' 'Good. Jeffrey Archer never talks about the colour of the sky and I like that in a writer. I'd say Jeffrey Archer has never even looked up at the sky his entire life.' 'Especially now that he's in prison,' I suggested.

He stood at the table facing Flora and blowing heavily on his tea and staring at her. Flora did not mind. It was quite interesting: like having tea with a rhinoceros.

He then reaches a new low. Without warning, he is suddenly set upon by a bear.

He's so dumb he couldn't find his way out of a birth canal.

--he stopped and eyed Bill Corso--"if you choose to just sit here like a bored jungle gorilla, you will have to write out this quote as many times as you can during the next hour.

He swallowed. “Have you no modesty?” Never in his life had he encountered a female so quick to be naked. Of course, he’d never in his life encountered a female who should so utterly be naked at any chance.

He thought moving to a small town would allow him to find a way to get along to some extent but people were just plain idiots.

He told us that it had been a fine day to-day, and we told him that it had been a fine day yesterday, and then we all told each other that we thought it would be a fine day to-morrow; and George said the crops seemed to be coming up nicely.

He was a self-righteous know-it-all who had the breath of a dung beetle, a gray ponytail he barely pulled together from the bozo ring of hair clinging to his balding, freckled dome, and loved to drink, of all things, tea. Usually it was some sickly sweet-smelling herbal crap that was made in the hippie wasteland of Boulder, Colorado. The box was festooned with the image of a happy, dancing bear in a field of multicolored flowers and the tea had some idiotic name like Tai Chai. After work one evening, I snatched the box of tea bags from the break room and changed the recipe. I wasn't really worried that any other employees would use one of the tea bags because NO ONE DRINKS FUCKING TEA AT WORK, especially not the totally useless, noncaffeinated fairy tears reserved for old maids to sip while they watch Murder, She Wrote in bed with their legion of cats.

He walked over to where the three were standing. “I see all the beauty is on this side of the room.” Viktoria gave a wicked grin. “Well, it was.

He was rather a low sort of pony. The fact is, he had been originally jobbed out by the day, and he never quite got over his old habits. He was clever in melodrama too, but too broad--too broad. When the mother died, he took the port-wine business.' 'The port-wine business!' cried Nicholas. 'Drinking port-wine with the clown,' said the manager; 'but he was greedy, and one night bit off the bowl of the glass, and choked himself, so his vulgarity was the death of him at last.

He was my age and in my imagination he was a fireman, not the kind that actually fights fires but the kind who travels the country shirtless posing for calendars.

He was love blind. His wife walked him through.

He was not at the moment in very good odour at Bow Street. Such epithets as Blockhead and Blunderer had been used in connection with his last case. 'Jeremiah Stubbs, miss,’ said the Runner. ‘I am here in the execution of my dooty.

He was staring hard, not at his wife and me but at his daughter watching us. In his cold pupil, in the firm twist of his lips, was reflected Madame Miyagi's orgasm reflected in her daughter's gaze.

He was thirty-six years old, and six foot three. He spoke English to people and French to cats, and Latin to the birds. He had once nearly killed himself trying to read and ride a horse at the same time.

He with the cleanest clothes isn’t necessarily the cleanest.

He who laughs last ... just didn't get the joke.

Hey Highbrow. Next time remember to tuck and roll.

He would not object, he said, to accepting a post as a librarian. But as Cecilia was unable to imagine that her father or her brother would feel any marked degree of satisfaction in giving her in marriage to a librarian, this very handsome concession on Mr Fawnhope's part merely added to her despondency.

hey man, i am tankianann and i like to research

Hey!” Mena exclaimed “Don’t knock Jeopardy. I love that show” “So do I” Max admitted. “I like it when I know the answers.” Logan added. Trent turned to Logan, “Dude, if you hate the show, all you had to do was say so.

Hindsight,' said her father. 'It's always just a fraction too late.

His hair had clearly been up all night having adventures without him.

His boat sank. They were all on his side.

His message perplexed his mind to that degree that he was fain, several times, to take off his hat to scratch his head. Except on the crown, which was raggedly bald, he had stiff, black hair, standing jaggedly all over it, and growing down hill almost to his broad, blunt nose. It was so like Smith's work, so much more like the top of a strongly spiked wall than a head of hair, that the best of players at leap-frog might have declined him, as the most dangerous man in the world to go over.