Best 7847 quotes in «fun quotes» category

Go get dirty, baby girl. And I mean the naked kind.

Good friends will allow you to be as innocent and free as a child when in private, and as wise and mature as an adult when in public.

Go walk barefoot on the grass Really flow, just let it pass... And dance in the wind, So do it in your mind, Such glory it is that the spirit lasts!

Happiness is a collection of joyful experiences shared with soul friends. Get together and have some fun!

Happiness is important. Fun is everything.

Happy COUPLES are those who have passed both chemistry and physics!

Have while you write!

Have Fun, Be Safe, and Always Have FAITH

Have rum; I mean, have fun. Don't overdose. Cheers.

Have you heard of the Children of Mae?” “The cult?” She knew of a religious group whose members went door to door, preaching the benefits of self-discipline—abstinence, celibacy or monogamy, vegetarianism—pretty much anything fun was prohibited. They had never come to Vesper’s house because her father was a butcher and probably pretty low on their list of possible converts.

Having a pleasant time can extend a long period of time to have a fun time.

Having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card." [Arthur]

He also stayed awake all night many times in the neon-lit insomnia of cities where the all-nighter is culturally certified and commercially mandated. But the all-nighter of the bohemian heroes was something else: it was spiritual work, the night shift; they stayed awake so the demons that haunt the world wouldn’t get them in their sleep.

He glared at Mr. Diddley’s yellow-toothed smile, and thought how he’d like to shove a toothbrush in his mouth and teach him how to use it.

He just likes to have fun, Papa." "That's not a quality that gets you far in life.

He tilted my head up with his index finger. Tingles spread on my skin. "Pain, obstacles, betrayal and all shitty things that happen in life shape everyone, just as much as good things do. Don't regret anything if in the end you can say you're an amazing woman.

He nibbled on my lower lip again and pulled away, his breathing loud and labored. I opened my eyes and met two blue orbs so dark with desire that it almost made me lose all train of thought and strip naked. His lips were red and a little swollen from our kiss. And I'd be damned if I didn't want to nibble on his lower lip, too.

He stopped breathing, literally stopped breathing for several seconds. His brain had stopped working as soon as she had unzipped his jeans. His heart was going into overdrive because somewhere in the last few minutes, it had forgotten how to beat in regular intervals. And now his lungs were giving in, blatantly refusing to take in any air. It was like every organ was confused and electrified by the sensations pounding through his body; like they were all shouting: “Hey, what’s going on down there, Penis?” But Penis was too wrapped up in Danny’s mouth to respond so they all just continued to malfunction.

Hey Audrey,I am watching you de-clutter your house,do you need help?

How about us?’” she heard herself ask. “Don’t we deserve a little fun?’” I did not just say that. Only she had. He smiled. She wondered if the shadows were ever going to leave his eyes again. “I could do something fun.’” “Ummm…’” She licked her lips. “Define fun.’” “Quit doing that, jailbait. It’s distracting.’” The whole idea that somebody would even think of her as jailbait was tremendously exciting. Especially Shane. She tried to hide that, and act like she wasn’t quaking on the inside like a Jell-O fruit salad. “So now you want me to stay up? I thought you said I should go to bed.’” “You should.’” He didn’t put any particular emphasis on it. “’Cause if you stay down here, there’s going to be fun. I’m just saying.’” “Video game fun?’” His eyes widened. “You want to play video games?’” “Do you?’” “You are the weirdest girl.

Hey,” he replied. “You look beautiful today.” I glanced down and laughed. Along with my limited wardrobe, I was also discovering that not doing laundry decreased my clothing options even further. I was in jeans and a plain black T-shirt today, and my hair had been lucky to get a quick brushing, let alone any real styling. I’d overslept and figured beachcombing didn’t require much primping anyway. “Liar,” I said. “I practically rolled out of bed this morning.” “You forget that I’ve seen you in just about every state imaginable. You don’t have to have every detail primped and perfect. You’re beautiful even when you’re disheveled. Sometimes more so.

His forehands are nothing less than cricket shots. His single-handed backhand is like a game of table tennis return. I want to burst into laughter. His shots touch the Sky… His returns reach up to the Sun… His serves tread unknown paths…

How can he call it all fun? Does all this. all this trauma and torture that he made me go through means nothing? What if he had to go through the same, what then? What if his legs would be itching right now from all the pain that they spent being dragged?

How can you make efficiency a habit, and an enjoyable one at that?

how good are you with sign languish?" "Quite competent within a very narrow range, sir" said Bekker. "I'm certain I can communicate hostility and frustration with no risk of misunderstanding. More complex matter might exead my abilities.

How do text messages make you feel existential? I start thinking about exactly that: how people can edit a thought before sending it out to the world. They can make themselves seem more well spoken than they are, or funnier, smarter. I start thinking that no one in the world is who they say the are, then my mind goes to how I also edit myself, not just online but in real life, except for those rare instances like right now where I'm ranting- even though that's a lie because I've had this train of thought before and damned if I didn't tweak it in my head a few times to make it sound better- and then my mind starts racing so furiously I can't control my thoughts, and I start thinking about robots and wondering if I'm even a real person.

How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it! We've started and won two atomic wars since 2022! Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumors; the world is starving, but we're well fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much? I've heard the rumors about hate too, once in a long while, over the years. Do you know why? I don't, that's sure! Maybe the books can get us half out of the cave. They just might stop us from making the same damn insane mistakes!

I am an urchin, standing in the cold, elbowed aside by the glossy rich visitors in their fur coats and ostentatious jewellery, being fussed into the hotel by pompous-looking doormen. 'No problem. I'd better get home, actually Mr – Gustav. A drink is very tempting, but maybe not such a good idea after all.' I pat my pockets. 'And I'm skint.' 'Pavements not paved with gold yet, eh?' He moves on along the facade of the grand hotel to the corner, and waits. He's staring not back at me but down St James Street. I wage a little war with myself. He's a stranger, remember. The newspaper headlines, exaggerated by the time they reach the office of Jake's local rag: Country girl from the sticks raped and murdered in London by suave conman. Even Poppy would be wagging her metaphorical finger at me by now. Blaming herself for not being there, looking out for me. But we're out in public here. Lots of people around us. He's charming. He's incredibly attractive. He's got a lovely deep, well spoken voice. And he's an entrepreneur who must be bloody rich if he owns more than one house. What the hell else am I going to do with myself when everyone else is out having fun? One thing I won't tell him is that my pockets might be empty, but my bank account is full. 'One drink. Then I must get back.' He doesn't answer or protest, but with a courtly bow he crooks his elbow and escorts me down St James. We turn right and into the far more subtle splendour of Dukes Hotel. 'Dress code?' I ask nervously, wiping my feet obediently on the huge but welcoming doormat and drifting ahead of him into the smart interior where domed and glassed corridors lead here and there. The foyer smells of mulled wine and candles and entices you to succumb to its perfumed embrace.

I chase goals, not girls.

I choose to write because it's perfect for me. It's an escape, a place I can go to hide. It's a friend, when I feel out casted from everyone else. It's a journal, when the only story I can tell is my own. It's a book, when I need to be somewhere else. It's control, when I feel so out of control. It's healing, when everything seems pretty messed up. And it's fun, when life is just flat-out boring.

I assure you, we do not enjoy having so much fun.

I can’t help but think that if she was going to kill herself, she might as well have done it earlier. Perhaps when I was a toddler. Or better yet, an infant. It certainly would have made my life easier. I asked my uncle Hugh (who is not really my uncle, but he is married to the stepsister of my current mother’s brother’s wife and he lives quite closeand he’s a vicar) if I would be going to hell for such a thought. He said no, that frankly, it made a lot of sense to him. I do think I prefer his parish to my own.

I don't always have thoughts, but when I do, they're deep.

I’d give a lot to achieve fun,” Elphaba said. “The best I usually hope for is stirring, and when people say that they’re usually referring to digestion-

I decided to do the easy task of changing situations and conditions by being a hero, than staying back to do the difficult task of changing people by being just a man.

I don't get jealous, I get even.

I don’t give sick days if you’re playing in the snow.” He’s being funny, or trying to be funny. I can never tell which.

I don't understand this irony - valuable things like cars, gold, diamond are made up of hard materials but most valuable things like money, contracts and books are made up of soft paper.

If I can't be remembered as one of the greatest authors, why not be remembered as the sexiest writer...

Explain to me how this is fun: thirty minutes in line, thirty dollars to get in, ten minutes to work your way down here, ten more saying hi to people I can tell you barely know, and now fifteen minutes ordering a beer that costs twice what it should. You just lost an hour of your life.

If a black black cat crosses your path, it suggests that the animal is going somewhere.

I feel like I'm supposed to make some comment to underscore the ridiculousness of it all, but honestly? It's sort of nice not to have to be cynical for a change. I guess it feels like I'm a part of something.

If God had a wife He would be in just as much trouble as any man.

IF I HAD a dime for every time I’ve heard “We’re all going to die” or “I’ll kill you,” I could afford a better apartment. You can only listen to so many threats of destruction, doom, or death before you start tuning them all out. So I followed the wolf out of the building, then went home.

I figured out once that if you decide to have fun when you give a public talk, then you relax. It is psychologically impossible to have fear and fun at the same time. When I am relaxed, ideas flow freely into my mind during my talk, then leave through my mouth with the smoothness of eloquence. Moreover, the audience doesn’t get bored when it is fun.

If it pleases you and you can write at all, it's gonna please somebody else.

If you don’t laugh reading this book I’ll eat my pocket protector. Wait, did I just admit I had a pocket protector?

If the pen is mightier than the sword, a sharpie must be plain deadly!

If you don't feel drowsy after lunch and don't yawn in the office, you're not a perfect employee!

If the universe is anything, it should be fun.