Best 708 quotes in «sarcasm quotes» category

He'd been given an assignment to write about teen beauty pageants [...], which he'd accepted because he enjoyed blood sports as much as the next person.

He has got no good red blood in his body," said Sir James. "No. Somebody put a drop under a magnifying glass, and it was all semicolons and parentheses," said Mrs. Cadwallader.

Hello, Mrs. Tran...I have David's homework. And if you ever want to see it again, you'll pay me the two million dollars I asked for.

Help yourself with the state! It's on democracy!

Here! Now, you have a weapon. Next time, I’ll expect you to help us.

He paused at the bedroom door, shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and walked right out like it was any other morning, and he and Jack would be having breakfast as if they hadn't had sex the night before. "Morning," he said, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. "Mmm," D grunted. "You done in the bathroom?" D blinked. No, I jus' took a little breather in the middle a my mornin' beauty ritual ta come out here 'n' chat with ya. A course I'm done.

He's crazy," Bruno said, twirling a finger in circles around the side of his head and whistling to indicate just how crazy he thought he was. "He went up to a cat on the street the other day and invited her over for afternoon tea." "What did the cat say?" asked Gretel, who was making a sandwich in the corner of the kitchen. "Nothing." explained Bruno. "It was a cat.

His chief form of entertainment was reading. The last moments he was in a cabin were usually spent scanning bookshelves and nightstands. The life inside a book always felt welcoming to Knight. It pressed no demands on him, while the world of actual human interactions was so complex. Conversations between people can move like tennis games, swift and unpredictable. There are constant subtle visual and verbal cues, there's innuendo, sarcasm, body language, tone. Everyone occasionally fumbles an encounter, a victim of social clumsiness. It's part of being human. To Knight, it all felt impossible. His engagement with the written word might have been the closest he could come to genuine human encounters. The stretch of days between thieving raids allowed him to tumble into the pages, and if he felt transported he could float in bookworld, undisturbed, for as long as he pleased.

He was love blind. His wife walked him through.

Hey,” he said. “Hi.” Oh, damn. It was awkward. “What’re you doing?” “Shearing a sheep. It’s cold outside, and I need a new hat.” He paused. “You’re joking, right?” “Yes, Marshall.” I gnawed on my fingers some more and sunk back in my chair.

How 'bout a shot of truth in that denial cocktail.

How's Alison getting on?' Conway snorted. 'Tucked up in the sick room like she's dying in some season finale. Little fadey voice on her and all. She's having a great old time.

How careless of me!" By which she meant that she had deduced that he had found [them] in his pocket and pitied him for needing to be forever in the right.

How Gloomy it is, to pause, to cease and to rust unburn, to get used and be indistinct. Like to live is to breathe.

How long have you been with Raphael?” “You ask a lot of questions for a dead woman.” “What can I say? I prefer to die well-informed.

How’s your first week so far?” Isabele asks. “Well, let me see,” I begin. “Chloe says my penmanship is shit, and I was only thirty minutes early this morning, which apparently means I’m late, but on the bright side, she thinks her non-fat, half-sweet, no-whip soy latte didn’t taste right and then she told me she’s not paying for it. Other than that, work is just fine.

I admire all my three sons-in-law highly. Wickham, perhaps is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane's.

-I am alergic to these flowers. -I know.

I couldn’t very well make a special delivery to the door of the constabulary now could I? And he’d have made the perfect scapegoat. That aura of misery he wraps himself in. So Byronesque. He’s too immersed in his own guilt to ever suspect it in another.

I am so tired of this gothic crap,” I muttered. “Just once, I want to meet the villain in a cheerful, brightly lit room. Possibly one with kittens.

I BELIEVE EVERYONE IS SPECIAL . . . BUT SOME PEOPLE THINK . . . . IT'S JUST ANOTHER WAY OF SAYING NO-ONE IS

I believe sarcasm is the passive form of rudeness and should not be tolerated in the Body of Christ.

I bet she thought she was getting into a fight with a vanilla wafer on roller skates but little did she know she was getting into a fight with a spider sandwich.

I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. 'We spent one night together.' 'You had sex then?' 'No we crocheted a quilt.' I cocked my head to side and gave him my nastiest glare." Lorelei Preston to Agent Brody-The Wild Hunt

I’d heard street food was a big thing here in Mexico but I didn’t think it meant the creatures that lived on the street.

I didn’t intend it to come out sarcastically, but I guess that’s just where my tone of voice automatically goes these days.

I cannot believe you formed this plan," Clove said. "No one else would think of this but you." "That's true; I am very clever!" Ella wriggled next to Clove, peering. "That is the opposite of what I meant." Ella sighed. "Clove, please recognize the negative energy you are bringing into this space." "WE'RE IN A POTATO CART!" Ella shushed her. "I do everything for a reason. Just because you do not know that reason, does not make it silly." "Sometimes the reason is that you make bad choices," Clove muttered.

I discovered that politics is not entirely about agendas and manifestos of some old, sullen creep promising a better future of the country as a whole. Politics is being played everywhere and it starts from the very bedroom that you consider your safe haven.

I do not like the terms. I don’t get any offspring, any beloved, I cannot ask something that is not in your power and I do not get to have your soul?” Her lips twisted in a sarcastic smile, and I could tell I had managed to insult her. “Although I suppose that’s some other entity’s priority and not mine. But that aside, what’s left for me?

I don't avoid Starbucks because it's Satanic, I avoid Starbucks because they over-roast their beans. Satanic is just a bonus.

I don’t believe this. This is utter shit!” I yelled. “Does it look like I’m lying?” Steven asked. I rolled my eyes at his incredibly stupid question, “I don’t know. Let me look at you with my x-ray vision to see through this stupid blindfold and I’ll get back to you.

I don’t have a sense of humor anymore. It’s literally just sarcasm and a general hate of the majority of the human population. -Fact of Life

I don’t get you people. You watch the Godfather on television and tons of people are getting shot and stabbed to death, blood splattering everywhere and it is entertaining. But, when they killed a horse, people were outraged.

I don’t recall either of you asking me, you know I’m a lady and I need to be asked and agree to it.

I don’t like to think of my hips as a nuisance, but more of an asset. I mean, if this were, like 1642, my whole birthing hips would be worth many cows or something.

I don't know what it is about "magic happens"-stickers on cars but every time I see one I wanna get out my permanent marker and sneak over and write underneath it "so does cot death".

I don't spend money on books. I write them myself.

I don't profess any religion; I don't think it’s possible that there is a God; I have the greatest difficulty in understanding what is meant by the words ‘spiritual’ or ‘spirituality.' [Interview, The New Yorker, Dec. 26, 2005]

I don't need a mate,” she muttered, staring up at the bright circle of the early autumn moon. “But can't you send me a nice, sexy, strongmale to dance with? Pretty please?” She hadn't had a lover for close to eight months now, and it was starting to hurt on every level. “He doesn't even have to be smart, just good between the sheets.” Good enough to unsnap the tension in her body, allow her to function again. Because sex wasn't simply about pleasure for a cat like her—it was about affection, about trust, about everything good. “Though right this second, I'd take plain old hot sex.” That was when Riley walked out of the shadows. “Got an itch, kitty?” Snapping to her feet, she narrowed her eyes, knowing he had to have deliberately stayed downwind in order to sneak up on her. “Spying?” “When you're talking loud enough to wake the dead?” She swore she could feel steam coming out her ears.

If by ‘foe’ you mean a brutal killer, then I suppose I’d fall into the ‘friend’ category,” I replied cynically. “Although in your case, we may have to find a secret option number three.

I'd tell you nice try, but... it wasn't.

If a son has a peaceful relationship with his father, if neither of them ever shows contempt for the other, then either the father is a fool, or the son is.

I feel, therefore, I am a fool.

If I want to fuck a guy, I want to fuck a guy.

If you don't understand it, it's art.

If only a stare can kill, I'm already a murderer.

I frowned at him. "Isn't sarcasm the opiate of the masses?" "You're thinking of religion," he replied. "Sarcasm is the Xanax of the morally bereft.

if the opponent praises you … you will not believe, you will take it as sarcasm. And, if the opponent curses you and criticizes you, you will not only believe it, you will take it as if he had made a declaration over a notarized stamped paper. So granted and guaranteed.

If this is how you feel about a desert, I can't wait until you see your first real tree. Your mind will explode.