Best 15707 quotes in «humor quotes» category

Percy's thoughts: I don't recommend shadow travel if your scared of: A) The dark B) Cold shivers up your spine C) Strange noises D) Going so fast you feel like your is peeling off In other words I thought it was awesome

Perfect! You guys are the same age. I bet you have a lot in common.” Classic adult logic. Reid and I are vaguely the same age, so of course we’re basically soul mates. It’s like horoscopes. Somehow I’m supposed to believe that I’m similar in some meaningful way to every single person born on my birthday. Or every single Sagittarius. I mean, I barely have anything in common with Cassie, and we were born six minutes apart.

Percy, you are dismissed from my service." "Me? Why, my lord?" "Why? Because, Percy, far from being a fit consort for a prince of the realm, you would bore the leggings off a village idiot. You ride a horse rather less well than another horse would. Your brain would make a grain of sand look large and ungainly, and the part of you that can't be mentioned, I am reliably informed by women around the court, wouldn't be worth mentioning even if it could be. If you put on a floppy hat and a funny codpiece, you might just get by as a fool, but since you wouldn't know a joke if it got up and gave you a haircut, I doubt it. That's why you're dismissed." "Oh, I see." "And as for you, Baldrick..." "Yes." "You're out, too.

Perdonerete, ma è piuttosto difficile parlare del proprio amico e di otto tentacoli che vi aggrediscono e si infilano sotto gli abiti, insinuandosi in posti che un gentiluomo non dovrebbe nominare.

(...) perfectly ordinary books, printed on commonplace paper in mundane ink. It would be a mistake to think that they weren't also dangerous, just because reading them didn't make fireworks go off in the sky. Reading them sometimes did the more dangerous trick of making fireworks go off in the privacy of the reader's brain.

Percy: Dad- Poseidon: Very well! It shall be as you say. But my son, pray this works. Percy: I'm praying, I'm talking to you, right? Poseidon: Oh...yes. Good point.

Percy says be talked to a Nereid in Charleston Harbor!” “Good for him!” Leo yelled back. “The Nereid said we should seek help from Chiron’s brothers.” “What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer-chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream. “Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?” “I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude!

Perché piangono gli uomini? Per colpa delle lotte e delle gesta e della maratona delle promozioni, perché vogliono la mamma, perché restano ciechi anche col passar del tempo, per colpa di tutte le erezioni che debbono inventarsi sul più bello dal nulla, per colpa di tutto ciò che hanno fatto. Perché non possono più essere felici o tristi – solo sbronzi o pazzi. E perché non sanno che pesci pigliare quando sono svegli. E poi c'è l'informazione, che arriva di notte.

Percy: Put your cap back on... get out! Annabeth: What? No! I'm not leaving you. Percy: I've got a plan. I'll distract them. You can use the metal spider... maybe it'll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what's going on. Annabeth: But you'll be killed! Percy: I'll be fine. Besides, we've got no choice. Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me, and then she did something that surprised me even more she kissed me. Annabeth Be careful, Seaweed Brain. Percy: she put on her hat and vanished.

Percy: You just hit the lord of the titans with a blue plastic hairbrush.

Perfect sanity is a myth propagated by straitjacket salesmen.

Perfect time to worry about important things like how stupid was Cinderella to leave a shoe behind. Who the fuck does that?

Perhaps it is a good thing that we don't live long enough to realize how redundant things seem :)

Perhaps one day even I will be famous. Perhaps more famous than you.” “I doubt it.

Perhaps the best thing for the princess would have been to fall in love. But how a princess who had no gravity could fall into anything is a difficulty–perhaps the difficulty.

Perhaps her giant bright-eyed sister had finally come to put her out of her misery just when things had gotten interesting.

Perhaps I am like you. I love the byways, the tiny adventures, the faces that smile for an instant and are gone, a little boy with his face between the railings of a fence, watching the shoes go by. What is he thinking about? The people and their joys and sorrows? No way, he is seeing the shoes, shoes that tramp, limp, scuffle along, and perhaps his greatest concern is the tiny bug they might step on. It is probably the true meaning of compassionate, wondering about people's passions, thier feelings. Passion, one of the loveliest words in the language, one of the most misunderstood. One can have a love for so many things, but novelists sometimes overwork the word. Perhaps one can have a passionate belief, but not a passionate love for a car or asparagus. Passion is private, gentle, consuming, understanding and personal. It expresses so many things but does not belong to lipstick. It is in nature, pictures, people, always people. I suppose compassion begins when you watch the shoes and worry about the bug.

Perhaps the single most important lesson from research on laughing is that laughter is predominantly a social response. Robert Provine estimates that people are thirty times more likely to laugh in the presence of another person than when they are alone. Field studies have established that most laughter is not in response to humor. Social inferiors laugh more in the presence of their social superiors. Social inferiors are also more likely to laugh at the instigation of social superiors than vice versa. For those of us who love to laugh, the scientific research on laughter seems depressing: the principal function of laughter seems to be to dissipate social fears.

Perhaps what Finneas needs, King Rowan, is an occupation. I believe there to be a village nearby in sore need of an idiot. Finn seems well suited to the task.' Rowan had just taken a hearty sip of wine when Gareth's words caused him to swallow the wrong way. Glenna gave him a healthy tap on the back. 'What's an idiot, Mama?' Stefan seemed excited by the prospect of Finn's employment. 'If Finn's to be an idiot, may I be an idiot, too?

perhaps you three could continue this conversation when the ship is not under attack? Mr.Kadam said.

Perhaps the most irrational fashion act of all was the male habit for 150 years of wearing wigs. Samuel Pepys, as with so many things, was in the vanguard, noting with some apprehension the purchase of a wig in 1663 when wigs were not yet common. It was such a novelty that he feared people would laugh at him in church; he was greatly relieved, and a little proud, to find that they did not. He also worried, not unreasonably, that the hair of wigs might come from plague victims. Perhaps nothing says more about the power of fashion than that Pepys continued wearing wigs even while wondering if they might kill him.

Perhaps you should try wearing, well, a bit more clothing?” “Oh, I couldn’t do that. You’ve got to wear all this leather stuff.” “I wouldn’t call it all,” said Rincewind. “There’s not enough of it to call it all. Why have you got to wear it?” “So people know I’m a barbarian hero, of course.” Rincewind leaned his back against the fetid walls of the snake pit and stared at the boy. He looked at two eyes like boiled grapes, a shock of ginger hair, and a face that was a battleground between its native freckles and the dreadful invading forces of acne. Rincewind rather enjoyed times like this. They convinced him that he wasn’t mad because, if he was mad, that left no word at all to describe some of the people he met. Barbarian hero,” he murmured. “It’s all right, isn’t it? All this leather stuff was very expensive.” “Yes, but, look—what’s your name, lad?” “Nijel—” “You see, Nijel—” “Nijel the Destroyer,” Nijel added. “You see, Nijel—” “—the Destroyer—” “All right, the Destroyer—” said Rincewind desperately.

Pero ipinapangako ko, alam mo, pag naabutan kita, hindi na kita pakakawalan. Yayakapin kita, hahalikan sa buong katawan, pagsasawain ko talaga ang mga labi ko. Tapos ikukulong kita sa aking matagal ding naghihintay na mga palad. Nanamnamin ng bawat daliri ko ang bawat balahibo mo. Hahaplusin kita nang hahaplusin. Pagkatapos, dahan-dahan kong pipilipitin ang leeg mo. Pipilipitin ko ito nang pipilipitin hanggang sa mapugtuan ka ng hininga. Buong poot kong isisiwalat sa mundo: hayop kang kuneho ka. Hayop.

Perhaps the most hillarious yet true advice I ever gave on marriage is this one. Don't marry because of Love, marry because of food Love fades, beauty wanes but hungry doesn't

Perhaps when I was a child. Then my brain fully developed and I started thinking about the logic. The Christian life is no life for this man. I have a potent predilection for the whiskey, weed and women. I like to defile all three of them, sometimes simultaneously. But yeah, it isn’t the fairytale within the bible that makes me such an infidel, I just couldn’t suffer waking up early on Sundays to praise a magical being that lacks significant proof.

Perhaps there isn’t anything Alec is afraid of.” Magnus glanced at Alec and raised his eyebrows. “Boo,” he said. Jace was grinning. “Come on, surely you’ve got a phobia or two. What scares you?” Alec thought for a moment. “Spiders,” he said. Clary turned to Luke. “Have you got a spider anywhere?” Luke looked exasperated. “Why would I have a spider? Do I look like someone who would collect them?” “No offense,” Jace said, “But you kind of do.” “You know”---Alec’s tone was sour---”Maybe this was a stupid experiment.” “What about the dark?” Clary suggested. “We could lock you in the basement.” “I’m a demon hunter,” Alec said, with exaggerated patience. “Clearly, I am not afraid of the dark.

Perhaps they are singing songs to you,' he said, 'and I just think they’re asking me questions.' He paused again. Sometimes he would pause for days, just to see what it was like.

Pericles, act 2, sc. 1, l. 1-3. Seeing the storm that has shipwrecked him as marking the anger of the heavens! "Yet cease your ire, you angry stars of heaven! Wind, rain, and thunder, remember earthly man Is but a substance that must yield to you." -William Shakespeare

Personally, I think the "Potter" books have too many adverbs and not enough sex.

Persons of quality had devoted yester evening and much of the night to liquidating their holdings in the South Sea Company and gathering in clubs and coffeehouses to misinform one another.

Personally, I don't think that having a water goddess for an ancestress is a guarantee of freedom against seasickness, nor come to that, shipwreck.

Personally, I think sex should be like math. At school. No one really cares if they're crap at math. They even proclaim it. They'll say to anyone, "Yeah, I don't mind science and English, but I'm absolutely shithouse at math." And other people will laugh and say,"Yeah, me too. I would have a clue about all that logarithm shit. You should be able to say that about sex too. You should be proudly able to say, "Yeah I wouldn't have a clue about all that orgasm shit, ay. I'm okay at everything else but when it comes to that part I wouldn't have a clue.

Persistent smile brings out hollow dimples, and persistent frowns brings out hollow wrinkles.

Personally, if I were trying to discourage people from smoking, my sign would be a little different. In fact, I might even go too far in the opposite direction. My sign would say something like, "Smoke if you wish. But if you do, be prepared for the following series of events: First, we will confiscate your cigarette and extinguish it somewhere on the surface of your skin. We will then run you nicotine-stained fingers through a paper shredder and throw them into the street, where wild dogs will swallow them and then regurgitate them into the sewers, so that infected rats can further soil them before they're flushed out to sea with the rest of the city's filth. After such time, we will sysematically seek out your friends and loved one and destroy their lives." Wouldn't you like to see a sign like that?

Perspective is a god damn son of a bitch.

Peter eyes his swanky and incredibly dated jacket and fluffs the frills on his sleeves. Outside the window stands a guy in a tattered grey hoodie and cut-offs that slide down to his hips, thus exposing the plaid glory of his boxers. “Damn pity. If I'd known what crimes I'd be exposed to under the guise of fashion, I may have very well stayed dead.

Phoebe doesn't quite believe in fate the way I do. She says you have to chase your destiny, and she always expects life to be like a romantic comedy: all you have to do is dress the part of the heroine, and pretty soon you'll be kissing some hottie while fountains spew and music swells in the background.

Peter to Austin: "Hard-ons don't make you think less. They make you think stupid. Which makes me think you must have one 24/7.

Peter was learning you don’t mess with redheads. Even when they’re blond.

Petey Samson gave the ladies an over-the-shoulder glance. He realized no doggie treat was forthcoming, even from Isabel who was usually the soft mark to hit up. He scratched his front claws to re-attack the sand.

Pet peeves should be kept on a leash.

[Phoebe Broome] 'Well,' she said at last. 'You've now met my father. At his worst.' [Lord Vladimir] 'Being myself widely considered my family's most difficult member, I would not presume to comment.' 'That is... gentlemanly of you.

Pheromones didn't care about tomorrow. They didn't care about education or employment or age.

Philosophers, Poets and Fools have similar Consciousness

Pharaoh’s Flour promises the full fidelity of your husband and the eternal good behavior of your children—not only because the delicacies that you create with it can never be forgotten, but also because Pharaoh’s Flour bakes into every cake and pie the ancient spells and curses with which the pharaohs guarded their undisturbed homes and descendants into Eternity. And the ancient spells and curses, once guarded by the wise and wealthy, are now available in your kitchen. Pharaoh’s Flour!

Phoebus de Chateaupers likewise came to a 'tragic end': he married.

Phrase the question any way you like…The answer will still be ‘Kiss my ass.

Peter remained on friendly terms with Christ notwithstanding Christ's having healed his mother-in-law.

Philosophy, as defined by Fichte, is the "science of sciences." Its aim was to solve the problems of the world. In the past, when all exact sciences were in their infancy, philosophy had to be purely speculative, with little or no regard to realities. But if we regard philosophy as a Mother science, divided into many branches, we find that those branches have grown so large and various, that the Mother science looks like a hen with her little ducklings paddling in a pond, far beyond her reach; she is unable to follow her growing hatchlings. In the meantime, the progress of life and science goes on, irrespective of the cackling of metaphysics. Philosophy does not fulfill her initial aim to bring the results of experimental and exact sciences together and to solve world problems. Through endless, scientific specialization scientific branches multiply, and for want of coordination the great world-problems suffer. This failure of philosophy to fulfill her boasted mission of scientific coordination is responsible for the chaos in the world of general thought. The world has no collective or organized higher ideals and aims, nor even fixed general purposes. Life is an accidental game of private or collective ambitions and greeds.

Phones ringing in the middle of the night always sound harsh and grating, like some savage metal tool out to destroy the world. I felt it was my duty, as a member of the human race, to put a stop to it