Best 247 quotes in «humourous quotes» category

See that?" said Lemon. "The car tracks turn off there." "How do you know it's not the parks people on a golf cart thingie?" "You don't golf, do you, Kate?" "No, I'm too young to die of boredom.

Religious nuts of the world, unite! I too will fly my kite. Let us set up a meet between your imaginary pal in the sky with my friend up there nowhere, Mr. NOT. We will let them slug it out. Whoever survives, will be our GOD! Long live the brotherhood of the nuts and naught!

Sacharissa saw a movement. Boddony had pulled his axe out from under the bench. It was a traditional dwarf axe. One side was a pickaxe, for the extraction of interesting minerals, and the other side was a war axe, because the people who owned the land with the valuable minerals in it can be so unreasonable sometimes.

See, because being Coll is obviously the most important thing on earth. It's more important than getting a job, or having a girlfriend, or political power, or money, because all those things are predicated by Coolness. They happen because of it. They depend on it.

Seniors get to do all the jolly things," Owen complained as they walked to archery practice that first day. Neal glared at the chubby second-year with all the royal disdain of a vexed lion. He was limping from a staff blow to the knee. "You are a bloody minded-savage," he informed Owen sternly. "I hope you are kidnapped by centaurs.

She looked around at the close confines of the NCD offices. They were cramped and untidy. No. They were worse than that. They had gone through cramped and untidy, paused briefly at small and shabby before ending up at pokey and damp.

She nodded, grabbed her purse out of the drawer and skedaddled, walking like she was on a catwalk, one foot in front of the other, her ass swaying under the skirt of her expensive, tailored suit. Bitch. I thought again, watching her go. “No comparison,” Luke said after the door closed behind Dawn and I turned to him. “Excuse me?” “Dawn’s a man eater. You’re not. No comparison,” Luke answered and I didn’t know how to take that. “Is that good?” The half-smile came back. “Most men prefer to do the eating.” Holy fucking cow.

She opened the door within two seconds of his pressing the doorbell, letting out a stream of cats that ran around with such rapidity and randomness of motion that they assumed a liquid state of furry purringness.

She's really married?" Tallow said to Bat. "Yeah. Talia's like this Scandinavian Amazon who can break rocks with her boobs. She could fit Scarly in her armpit. Sometimes I think she likes Scarly just because she was the most portable lesbian available.

Silk stockings. With garters. Well, they were out. There were a lot of things he'd do for Sybil, but if garters figured anywhere in the relationship they weren't going to be on him.

Sir," said the guard from behind me. "I'd appreciate it if you left your club here." I paused and looked over my shoulder, He had a gun. His hand wasn't exactly resting on it, but he'd tucked his thumb into his belt about half an inch away. "It isn't a club," I said calmly. "It's a walking stick." "Six feet long." "It's traditional Ozark folk art." "With dents and nicks all over it." I thought about it for a second. "I'm insecure?" "Get a blanket.

Someone broke from the scrum and, punching and kicking, staggered towards the Klatchian goal. "Isn't that man your butler?" said Ahmed. "Yes." "One of your soldiers said he bit a man's nose off." Vimes shrugged. "He's got a very pointed look if I don't use the sugar tongs, I know that.

Sometimes I pretend I have an insomnia problem when what I really have is a good book and a lack of respect for tomorrow's schedule.

Special Super Bowl Wisdom of the Ages: "Patriot Act" In theater and football, it's the last act before it's curtains for Seahawks opponents.

So Septimus will be the eighty-second Lord of Stormhold," said Tertius. "There is a proverbial saying chiefly concerned with warning against too closely calculating the numerical value of unhatched chicks," pointed out Quintus.

So what's the problem?’ ‘No problem. There's no problem. Don't ever say what's the problem, nthat's the negative way of looking at things, you know like is the bottle half empty or half full, know what I mean, every problem is also an opportunity, the question here is what opportunity does this present us with?’ ‘It seems to me’, said Ernest stubbornly, ‘that this opportunity presents us with a problem. Is there a director that Virginia would like?

Special Post-Super Bowl Wisdom of the Ages: "Eating Crow" This year, it just tastes like Seahawk.

Stop fretting and eat your Madeira Cake..

Tallow turned the corner into Bat and Scarly's office to be greeted by a large plastic robot on the bench waving its arms and shouting, "Say hello to my l'il frien'" in an electronically processed voiced as a small plastic penis repeatedly jabbed out from its groin on a short metal piston. Bat emerged from behind the thing. "Don't judge me," he said. "I got bored.

Tallow walked into Bat and Scarly's office to find Bat slumped on a chair with his head on the workbench, turned away from the door, while Scarly softly sharpened on old straight razor on a worn strop, watching her partner intently. "I don't think he needs his eyebrows, do you? I mean, they don't serve an immediate function or anything," she whispered.

Tallow was nervously aware that his name was on the worse cold-case dump CSU had ever seen. He was not looking forward to having them look at him and judge by eye exactly how much his organs might be worth on the black market.

That is physically impossible," Chubs groused. "He'd be--" "Actually," Liam began, "Cole once did try to--What?" "Oh, I'm sorry," Chubs said, "apparently the middle of my sentence interrupted the beginning of yours. Do continue.

That's part of your curse. To drive men mad with desire and feel no pleasure". "Great," I muttered. "And all this time I thought I was frigid.

That was a dhlang!" he said. "An evil spirit! The peasants down in the valleys hang up charms against them! But I thought they were just a superstition!" "No, they're a substition," said Susan. "I mean they're real, but hardly anyone really believes them. Mostly everyone believes in things that aren't real. Something very strange is going on. Those things are all over the place, and they've got bodies. That's not right. We've got to find the person who built the clock - " "And, er, what are you, Miss Susan?" "Me? I'm...a schoolteacher." She followed his gaze to the wrench that she still carried in her hand, and shrugged. "It can get pretty rough at break time, can it?" said Lobsang.

The barricade was taking some while to dismantle. Chair legs and planks and bedsteads and doors and baulks of timber had settled into a tangled mass. Since every piece belonged to someone, and Ankh-Morpork people care about that sort of thing, it was being dismantled by collective argument.

The boldest of the three moved suddenly, grabbed Angua and pulled her upright. "We walk out of here unharmed or the girl gets it, all right?" he snarled. Someone sniggered. "I hope you're not going to kill anyone," said Carrot. "That's up to us!" "Sorry, was I talking to you?" said Carrot.

The camp fell silent, each group staring tensely at the other. Finally Marcus stepped forward. ''If you insist on going through me to get to him, it's your call. But I warn you, I will probably cry when you hurt me, and you'll feel bad about it later.'' Vinci looked at him. ''That's your defiant speech?'' ''Get used to it,'' said Marcus. ''There's a lot more useless heroics where that came from.

The city wasa, wasa, wasa wossname. Thing. Woman. Thass what it was. Woman. Roaring, ancient, centuries old. Strung you along, let you fall in thingy, love, with her, then kicked you inna, inna, thingy. Thingy, in your mouth. Tongue. Tonsils. Teeth. That's what it, she, did. She wasa...thing, you know, lady dog. Puppy. Hen. Bitch.

The circus is the perfect business right now because parents want their kids to be kids and not Charley Bucket drinking cabbage soup all day.

The Codex actually sounds kind of creepy here. “Yeeeees, tell me eeeeeverything.” I was Marked by a very cute boy with terrible impulse control. I don’t remember because I was basically unconscious but everyone was mad at him when I woke up. The end, love Clary.

The ECTs are moving the guns in small batches," Bat said. "We're making them take so many photos that one of them asked if she was being trained to shoot porno.

The English winter is long, cold and wet, just like the English summer

The festivities were broken up by Pandora, who lobbed a scoop of ice cream at Lex that landed on the table with a sticky sploosh. “Don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya!” she screeched, jigging back into the kitchen.

The forest of Skund was indeed enchanted, which was nothing unusual on the Disc, and was also the only forest in the whole universe to be called -- in the local language -- Your Finger You Fool, which was the literal meaning of the word Skund. The reason for this is regrettably all too common. When the first explorers from the warm lands around the Circle Sea travelled into the chilly hinterland they filled in the blank spaces on their maps by grabbing the nearest native, pointing at some distant landmark, speaking very clearly in a loud voice, and writing down whatever the bemused man told them. Thus were immortalised in generations of atlases such geographical oddities as Just A Mountain, I Don't Know, What? and, of course, Your Finger You Fool. Rainclouds clustered around the bald heights of Mt. Oolskunrahod ('Who is this Fool who does Not Know what a Mountain is') and the Luggage settled itself more comfortably under a dripping tree, which tried unsuccessfully to strike up a conversation.

The hamster-powered hat is the same as any other hat. It keeps your head warm and looks smart,' the inventor said. 'The hamster generates heat by running on the wheel. If you get a big enough hamster, it will keep your whole face warm.

The horsemen came closer. Vimes was not good at horsemen. Something in him resented being addressed by anyone eight feet above the ground. He didn't like the sensation of being looked at by nostrils.

The Librarian swung on. It was slow progress, because there were things he wasn't keen on meeting. Creatures evolved to fill every niche in the environment, and some of those in the dusty immensity of L-space were best avoided. They were much more unusual than ordinary unusual creatures. Usually he could forewarn himself by keeping a careful eye on the kickstool crabs that grazed harmlessly on the dust. When they were spooked, it was time to hide. Several times he had to flatten himself against the shelves as a thesaurus thundered by. He waited patiently as a herd of Critters crawled past, grazing on the contents of the choicer books and leaving behind them piles of small literary criticism. And there were other things, things which he hurried away from and tried not to look hard at... And you had to avoid cliches at all costs.

The matron glanced at the old man and suppressed a smile. “He is absolutely miserable.” “I enjoy miserable. It gives one a contrast to all the delectabilities of life. But is he housebroken, inpala? He is rather rumpled. He will look well on my ship, but will he wash well? Do professors fray as a general rule? I will not have my ship looking ragged.” “They do tend to fade after a few years of hard use.

The mighty hunter,” I quipped as we snuck out the backdoor, escaping into the yard. “He can take down vicious rabids and rampaging boars, but one old lady can make him flee in terror.” “One scary old lady,” he corrected me, looking relieved to be out of the house. “You didn’t hear what she told me when I got up — you’re so cute I could put you in a pie. Tell me that’s not the creepiest thing you’ve ever heard.” His voice climbed a few octaves, turning shrill and breathy. “Today for dessert, we have apple pie, blueberry pie and Ezekiel pie.

The next morning after finishing my interviews, I found myself with some time to kill before the bus arrived to return me to Whitby. The term "time to kill" suddenly sounded awfully harsh. Was "time to waste" better? No, "waste" is so un-Benedictine. "Time to spend"? Too much of a material ring. "Time to bum around?" Yes, it had just the right balance of self-effacement and no fixed address. Like Jesus.

The only way to see everything, my dear, is to see it absolutely.

The other two entered the room. Vimes gave his men his usual look of resigned dismay. "My squad," he mumbled. "Fine body of men," said Lady Ramkin. "The good old rank and file, eh?" "The rank, anyway," said Vimes.

The plain old Sam Vimes had fought back. He got rid of most of the plumes and the stupid tights, and ended up with a dress uniform that at least looked as though its owner was male. But the helmet had gold decoration, and the bespoke armourers had made a new, gleaming breastplate with useless gold ornamentation on it. Sam Vimes felt like a class traitor every time he wore it. He hated being thought of as one of those people that wore stupid ornamental armour. It was gilt by association.

The point of tantric sex was supposedly to harness sexual energy to awaken higher consciousness. It was just like yoga, but way more fun.

The question, then, is not whether boy should meet girl in Winnipeg or in New York; instead it is, What happens in Canadian literature when boy meets girl? And what sort of boy, and what sort of girl? If you've got this far, you may predict that when boy meets girl she gets cancer and he gets hit by a meteorite. . . .

The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork sat back on his austere chair with the sudden bright smile of a very busy person at the end of a crowded day who's suddenly found in his schedule a reminder saying: 7.00-7.05, Be Cheerful and Relaxed and a People Person.

There ain't enough happens in soccer. It's like watching twenty-two hair models kick a ball around for what seems like six months and then one of them falls over and the ball goes in the goal.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Matt?” Fuck. “Nope. Silence. “Would you be the owner of the leather pants?” “Yep.” She paused briefly. “I’m going to pass these through the door. You have exactly thirty seconds to pull them on, make yourself presentable and get your ass out here.” “Do I have any other options?” “Only if Matt’s got a window.” He looked at the window longingly. The thirty-six-story drop with no fire escape might be less painful, but he decided there was no avoiding it. “Understood.

There is nothing more American than buying a Japanese car on the 4th of July

There was my life before I told a strange woman in a negligee that I was a homosexual, and now there would be my life after, two chapters so dissimilar in style and content that they might have been written by different people.