Best 708 quotes in «sarcasm quotes» category

What--has O-Tar seen an ulsio and fainted?" demanded I-Gos with broad sarcasm. "Men have died for less than that, ancient one," E-Thas reminded him. "I am safe," retorted I-Gos, "for I am not a brave and popular son of the jeddak of Manator.

What I really needed wasn't a dose of school spirit; it was a glass of water, an aspirin the size of my fist, and the answers to the history exam that I hadn't studied for the night before. "As long as I'm dreaming," I muttered, my words lost to the cacophony of the gym, "I'd also like a pony, a convertible, and a couple of friends." "That's a tall order." I'd known that there were people sitting next to me, but I couldn't begin to imagine how one of them had heard me. I hadn't even heard me. "Would you settle for a piece of gum, an orange Tic Tac, and an introduction the the school slut?

What is your collective GPA for this year?” “Not as high as I'd like it to be.” Freud steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “What about your parents?” “I don't know. They haven't been in school for a while.

What's next? You want to convince me they're making another crap Last Airbender movie?

What’s that around your neck?” asked Emily. “It’s a golden star.” Said Reed. “What did you get it for?” “Chemistry class.” “What’s the star for?” the shadow asked, Usually stars represent a straight A student. “You get it for having greatness. But Emily doesn’t know what that is.” He said, answering the shadows question and looking at Emily. “Greatness, what’s greatness?” Emily asked, all wide eyed, and clueless looking “It’s when you do really awesome stuff, and people recognize you for it.” “Oh, no” Emily laughed .”No, I don’t know what that is.

What - what - what are you doing?" he demanded. "I am almost six hundred years old," Magnus claimed, and Ragnor snorted, since Magnus changed his age to suit himself every few weeks. Magnus swept on. "It does seem about time to learn a musical instrument." He flourished his new prize, a little stringed instrument that looked like a cousin of the lute that the lute was embarrassed to be related to. "It's called a charango. I am planning to become a charanguista!" "I wouldn't call that an instrument of music," Ragnor observed sourly. "An instrument of torture, perhaps." Magnus cradled the charango in his arms as if it were an easily offended baby. "It's a beautiful and very unique instrument! The sound box is made from an armadillo. Well, a dried armadillo shell." "That explains the sound you're making," said Ragnor. "Like a lost, hungry armadillo." "You are just jealous," Magnus remarked calmly. "Because you do not have the soul of a true artiste like myself." "Oh, I am positively green with envy," Ragnor snapped. "Come now, Ragnor. That's not fair," said Magnus. "You know I love it when you make jokes about your complexion." Magnus refused to be affected by Ragnor's cruel judgments. He regarded his fellow warlock with a lofty stare of superb indifference, raised his charango, and began to play again his defiant, beautiful tune. They both heard the staccato thump of frantically running feet from within the house, the swish of skirts, and then Catarina came rushing out into the courtyard. Her white hair was falling loose about her shoulders, and her face was the picture of alarm. "Magnus, Ragnor, I heard a cat making a most unearthly noise," she exclaimed. "From the sound of it, the poor creature must be direly sick. You have to help me find it!" Ragnor immediately collapsed with hysterical laughter on his windowsill. Magnus stared at Catarina for a moment, until he saw her lips twitch. "You are conspiring against me and my art," he declared. "You are a pack of conspirators." He began to play again. Catarina stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. "No, but seriously, Magnus," she said. "That noise is appalling." Magnus sighed. "Every warlock's a critic." "Why are you doing this?" "I have already explained myself to Ragnor. I wish to become proficient with a musical instrument. I have decided to devote myself to the art of the charanguista, and I wish to hear no more petty objections." "If we are all making lists of things we wish to hear no more . . . ," Ragnor murmured. Catarina, however, was smiling. "I see," she said. "Madam, you do not see." "I do. I see it all most clearly," Catarina assured him. "What is her name?" "I resent your implication," Magnus said. "There is no woman in the case. I am married to my music!" "Oh, all right," Catarina said. "What's his name, then?" His name was Imasu Morales, and he was gorgeous.

When friends become overfriendly - smell fish!

When it rains it pours and when it shines you get melanoma.

Where did you live before you came here?" I asked. "The moon," he said smoothly. "We left because the place had no atmosphere.

When you succumb to cynicism, darkness, pessimism and sarcasm you are amplifying imbalance and negativity.

While the man is putting on it's shoes, the woman can buy dozens of high heels.

Where were we?” he said. “Ah, yes, cake and sarcasm.

While Daniel disappeared into his room, probably to limn the contours of some exquisite constellation of philosophical nonsense for his internship applications and gasp in the throes of his overachieving OCDness.

While you were out JUDGING others, you left your closet door open...and guess what fell out!....Ooops

Who am I to judge me?

Who cares even if I didn't?!" Conor shouted back. "They're just stupid berries. Woo-hoo, so scary. Oh, please, please, save me from the berries!" The monster looked at him quizzically. How strange, it said. The words you say tell me you are scared of the berries, but your actions seems to suggest otherwise.

Whoosh! went the bluebird of sarcasm, zooming miles above Dale’s head.

Women strive to be the change they want to see in the mirror.

Women KNOW, we just know. Even if we didn't know, we would know. Men won't get this, but women will..because we KNOW

Word of advice - never ask a terrorist the question 'What would you do for a Klondike bar?'.

Women do not lie about their age. In fact, no woman ever has, its just that memory is the first thing to go.

Would somebody please tell him whose idea it had been to kill the entire state of Colorado?

Wouldn’t you like to know,” I smiled. “I travel. Shit happens.

Wow," she said. "It's like you're teaching me something and being all wise." "You are not easy to get along with," Skulduggery said.

Yeah, and we could fly in on dragons and release a cloud of sugar plum fairies to tiptoe in an get the watch.

Yeah, because you'll really be showing them, won't you. Talk about cutting up your wrists to spite your fate.

Yes, I curse God all the time. On some days for giving us such a short life, and on others for giving us such a long one.

Yes. Reyn is our resident horse master. He has an excellent seat." I grinned. "I've noticed." Reyn's face tightened and Nell flushed, looking embarrassed. "It's an equestrian term." "Really? I thought you were talking about his ass.

You are such a kind and caring man, and so sizzling hot and studly. Please, please don’t go nutty on me.

You are quite possibly the least smooth guy I know,” she mumbled. “You can’t even put your arm around me without tripping up.

You are soft person you said. But you're soft as shit: it is very soft but stinking!

You are in good shape for a dead man.

You can't expect them to wear a big sandwich board with spy on it or a special spying hat.

You don’t want a girlfriend. You want a therapist whom you can be intimate with.

You couldn't find your dick in the dark, you scheming, sleaze-mongering scumwad.

You do know you’re one of the hot ones, right? You could have any dom in this room if you looked marginally more approachable than an underfed piranha having a bad day.

You don't have to make fun of it." "Actually I do," I said. "I make fun of almost everything.

You could heal him?" I asked, glancing at Hal. "Could," said the wysling, "but won't, until I get what's mine." I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath. "You're heartless and selfish." "I agree," he said, steepling his pale hands together and pointing them at the floor. "Any decent human being would offer to heal him anyway. However, since I'm neither decent nor a human being, I feel pretty all right about it.

You don’t like my restaurant, Miss Connor?” “I couldn’t say since the waiting list to get in is six months long.” One side of his mouth curved up. “This is true.” His finger lingered, and I tried to swallow the nervous lump in my throat. “I think you can call me by my first name now, seeing as how you’re touching my boob. That puts us a little past formality, don’t you think?

You have the chance to remain silent. Everything you say will be misused.

You have to be a sexologist: when I wish your fuckin' advice, I'll let you know.

You have the most lovely skin,”  Finn told her. “Like mahogany. Like the finest river loam. Could I touch it?” “You are touching it, Casanova,”  Rita answered, eyes on the blood pressure dial. “Behave.” “Casanova?”  Finn shot Diego a questioning glance. “Famous lover.” “Ah. A compliment?” “Sarcasm.”  Please don’t make me explain sarcasm. “Typical.” Apparently, it wouldn’t be necessary.

You know," Cecily said, "you really didn't have to throw that man through the window." "He wasn't a man," Gabriel said, scowling. "He was an Unseelie Court faerie. One of the nasty ones." "Is that why you chased him down the street?" "He had no business showing images like that to a lady," Gabriel muttered, though it had to be admitted that the lady in question had hardly turned a hair, and seemed more annoyed with Gabriel for his reaction than impressed by his chivalry. "And I do think it was excessive to hurl him into the canal." "He'll float." The corners of Cecily's mouth twitched. "It was very wrong.

You his brother?' 'Yes, damn it!' I burst out. "And all I want is to get my hands on whoever did this to him!' 'Funny,' said a dick dryly, 'but so do we.' I didn't like him much after that. Sarcasm is out of place when a man has just been brought face to face with personal tragedy. ("Walls That Hear You")

You know, Gilan, sarcasm isn't the lowest form of wit. It's not even wit at all.

You jealous souls are primeval without a doubt, Teach yourself to eat better instead of trying to eat one's heart out.

You know, Mac,”Cadmus said still looking out the window. “We may have to work on the way we tell our story …apparently it’s not amusing enough.” “I’ll try to include a joke between ‘he bled to death’and ‘the city burned’.”Machaon responded tersely.

You know politicians', Rosa said. 'They're sensitive as schoolgirls, and more vengeful.

You like? she asked Slade. He gave her a head nod and she vanished behind the curtain. That's my sister, he said, pointing at the closed curtain. I shrugged. "I'm glad you guys are so close.

You really are a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?