Best 708 quotes in «sarcasm quotes» category

Two hotheads traveling together through dangerous territory. Nothing disastrous about that combination. No, not at all.

Unlike your mother," she said, exhaling, "I told the culprit immediately. I thought at the very least he would visit me in the hospital after it was all done, but the son of a bitch sent me a get well card. Can you imagine? Serves me right for putting all my eggs in one bastard.

Using love as a bait and replacing respect with ego-pampering makes you a skillful social animal; unfortunately, all kinds of animals are less evolved than human beings. Would you like to evolve?

Valkyrie smiled patiently. "I like how you do your make-up. Do you use a brush, or just dip your head in the bucket?

Vegard and Riston's job today was to guard and protect me. And considering that I was in a tower room in the Guardians' citadel, it looked like a pretty plum assignment. I mean, how much trouble could a girl get into under heavy guard in a tower room? Notice I didn't ask that question out loud. No need to rub Fate's nose in something when I'd been tempting her enough lately. Phaelan had generously his guard services as well, just in case something happened to me that my Guardian bodyguards couldn't handle. Phaelan's guard-on-duty stance resembled his pirate-on-shore-leave stane of leaning back in a chair with his feet up, but instead of a tavern table, his boots were doing a fine job of holding down the windowsill. I don't know how I'd ever felt safe without him.

Walang matibay na relasyon kung buhay pa ang mga Kalapating mababa ang lipad...

Was he hitting some type of werewolf midlife crisis? First, he'd left Wolf Town, and now he was envisioning a mate. What next? Bird watching? Board games? Retirement homes?

We are literally in the heart of Jesus," he said. "I thought we were in a church basement, but we are literally in the heart of Jesus." "Someone should tell Jesus," I said. "I mean, it's gotta be dangerous, storing children with cancer in your heart.

... We are Nephilim; we fight our own battles." "That's not precisely true, is it?" said a velvety voice. It was Magnus Bane, wearing a long and glittering coat, multiple hoops in his ears, and a roguish expression. Clary had no idea where he'd come from. "You lot have used the help of warlocks on more than one occasion in the past, and paid handsomely for it too." Malachi scowled. "I don't remember the Clave inviting you into the Glass City, Magnus Bane." "They didn't," Magnus said. "Your wards are down." "Really?" the Consul's voice dripped sarcasm. "I hadn't noticed." Magnus looked concerned. "That's terrible. Someone should have told you." He glanced at Luke. "Tell him the wards are down.

We both want you dead. I'm bringing the friendship bracelets to the next meeting.

Well, how do we get out of this place?” Evyette’s voice shaking slightly. “We can’t.” If Kaleb felt any hopelessness he wasn’t conveying it. He looked around arduously, “Unless we find someone willing to help us.” “Oh well, that should not be a problem at all,” Tristan retorted throwing his hands up, “considering everything so far has tried to kill us!

We don't have dealings. He just stalks me. I'm popular like that.

Well, bloody noses." I hug his coat tighter. "Those are definitely hot.

Well, OK then." He narrowed his eyes. "How about you? Do you have any...romances I should know about?" "Nope. Not one." "Well, good. Excellent. There'll be plenty of time for boys when you leave college and become a nun." She smiled. "I'm glad you have such ambitious dreams for me.

We came around the corner and stood in the doorway of what looked like a paint-testing ground. This was where we proved once and for all that we were good loving parents. We decided to let him live. "What is painting doing in my best Tupperware bowl?" I yelled. "Well, I needed something lightweight I could carry around with me," he began. "You've been carrying around a brain for year," the boy's father said.

We had two categories. We had that good shit ... and we had that other shit.

Welcome to the 21st century cosmopolitan world where biased thoughts preside over unbiased deeds, simple gestures become overrated gossip materials and injustice is a part of long term justice.

We just wanted to see whose dick was in yer mouth. Call it curiosity.

Well, child? Aren't you going to try to turn me into some kind of unspeakable creature? I don't think I shall bother, madam, seeing as you are making such a good job of it yourself!

Well," she asked, "how do you gentlemen like living in a haunted house?" "It's perfectly fine," Luke said, "perfectly fine. It gives me an excuse to have a drink in the middle of the night.

Well, I think Leo's either going to learn a much needed lesson in social activity-- or go nuts and kill us all." -Crash

Well, you’re not exactly social, are you, Mandy Valems?” “Oh yeah, sure, because I’m just surrounded by genius to be social with in this day and age,” Mandy replied with razor-sharp sarcasm. “Hey, I don’t need anyone else! I’ve got you, you’re my friend, and you’ll be with me forever!” “…You won’t be with me forever, though…” said Alecto cynically. “I’m like a spider’s web; anyone who is friends with me gets dragged into my troubles and eventually dies.” “…Poetic, dear friend,” Mandy sighed, shaking her head. “Morbid, but poetic.

We met at a local restaurant. She tweeted from her Smartphone ,"Socializing is so liberating compared to being hung on Social media all the time". I liked her tweet and asked for the Bill.

Wenn ich den Eindruck hätte, dass in dem, was Sie da sagen, auch nur ein Körnchen Vernunft steckt, würde ich mir vielleicht die Mühe machen, mich auf eine solche Diskussion einzulassen. Aber wie die Dinge liegen, werde ich einfach an etwas anderes denken, während Sie weiter vor sich hin plappern.

Wes sat in a cracked vinyl booth picking at his fries and listening to Amanda go on and on about the dress she'd found. '...and it has these little lavender bows. Oh, Wes, I can't wait 'til you see it.' She gesticulated wildly, and her only saving grace right now was her amazing rack that swayed and bounced with each movement. Sometimes he swore that was the only reason he ever looked crosswise at Amanda Price. That, and her daddy's checkbook. 'And I found these shoes--" 'Uh huh, that's nice,' he cut her off and slid free from the booth. He held out his hand. 'Got the card?' He waved the bill in the air at her questioning gaze. Was she a little cross-eyed, maybe? He thought so.

What am I going to do?" asked Ce'Nedra. "First you ought to go wash your face," Polgara told her. "Some girls can cry without making themselves ugly, but you don't have the right coloring for it. You're an absolute fright. I'd advise you never to cry in public if you can help it.

What about you? What do you do?” I needed to ask questions, draw him out. I needed to find out all the information I could. My voice sounded strong and smooth, but my hands were shaking. I put them in my lap so he couldn’t see. “I prey on innocent villagers and terrify their children,” he said with a nasty smile. “And sometimes when I’m feeling really evil, I read books or paint.

What are you doing?" Alain asked. "Starting a fire, of course." Mari held up the thing in her hand. "It's a fire-starter. A really simple device. Haven't you ever seen one?" Alain shook his head. "Never. That thing seems very complicated. I do not understand how it can work." "How do you start fires?" That was a Guild secret. Or was it? The elders had told him that no Mechanic could understand how it worked. What would this Mechanic say if he told her? "I use my mind to channel power to create a place where it is hot, altering the nature of the illusion there," Alain explained, "and then use my mind to put that heat on what I want to burn." "Oh," Mechanic Mari said. "Is that actually how you visualize the process?" "That is how it is done," Alain said. "That's...interesting." She grinned. "So, instead of making fire by doing something complicated or hard to understand like striking a flint, you just alter the nature of reality. That is a lot simpler.

What am I doing here? The Southern Star has vanished, a Cataclyst is calling the moon out of time at the mythical Great Barrier, and you're asking what I'm doing here? Are you serious?

What do you do when you’re in a room of vampires and the most dangerous one tells you that you know too much? You bolt. What did I do? I hyperventilated.

What does your birth date say about you? You are old!

Whatever doesn't kill them, makes them make reality TV shows...

Whatever crimes this man had committed, they weren't as egregious as his inflated self-image.

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, everyone you know has been kidnapped by pirates and forced to chop octopus in a kitchen that smells like a whale's stomach?" "Quite a lot of them, yes," said Trudi, who appeared to be one of those people who'd heard of sarcasm but thought it was some sort of exotic fruit like a pineapple.

Whatever you are, do not even assume that you will be surrounded and gnawed by luxurious worms of an exquisite breed.

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'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.

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

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

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.

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.

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!

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

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.