Best 15707 quotes in «humor quotes» category

In WASP families, if you don't get along with someone, you have as little to do with them as possible. In Jewish families, you move next door, to make them as miserable as possible.

In view of the years of careful study that have been devoted to Stonehenge it may seem unlikely that any more information could be extracted from the monument, or at least from that part of it above ground.

In what way did your parents screw up to make you the woman you are today?

In winter this town is freezing. You step out your door in the morning and the whole place looks like one of those nature specials in which a guy brings a camcorder to the North Pole and then the camera cuts out and you hear on the news that he got eaten by a bear

I obscenity in the milk of my shame.

I often got sword fighting and tennis confused.

I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. I don't don't know why know why, I simply know that I I I am am inclined to say to say a lot a lot this way this way- I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. My mom my mom gets mad gets mad, it irritates my dad my dad, it drives them up a tree a tree, that's what they tell they tell me me- I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. It gets me in a jam a jam, but that's the way I am I am, in fact I think it's neat it's neat to to to to repeat repeat- I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat.

O Muse, let us now Sing in praise of botanists! They do plant stuff. Yay.

I often talk about unconditional love towards others. But the truth is I have always looked for favorable conditions when it comes to self-love and happiness. Now that is what you call a true confession!

I once again fought against the desire to bitch-slap a faerie

I once bought my kids a set of batteries for Christmas with a a note on it saying, toys not included.

I often don't know where my Luggage is, that's what being a tourist is all about.

Omg this is like one of those sappy romance movies but I don’t care! Jake is holding my hand! I looked back up at him and we slowly rose staring into each other’s eyes. Ok, where the heck is my awesome music saying he’s the one?! What about a breeze that blows my hair in all directions making me look hot? C’mon Cupid! Give me something!!! A weak chilly breeze blew. It barely even moved my hair. Oh c’mon!!!!

I once heard a tobacco-chewing hog farmer say that, in Iowa, folks like to spread out their children like dog shit on a dance floor.

Once was Apollo Now a rat in the Lab'rinth Send help. And cronuts

I opened my backpack and checked my supplies: some enchanted rope, my curved ivory wand, a lump of wax for making a magical shabti figurine, my calligraphy set, and a healing potion my friend Jaz had brewed for me a while back. (She knew that I got hurt a lot.)

I ordered a single espresso because I wanted a drink I could hook up with.

i once heard the survivors of a colony of ants that had been partially obliterated by a cow s foot seriously debating the intention of the gods towards their civilization

I once read a short story about some cannibals who didn't turn their victims into steaks and chops and roasts; they made them all into sausages. Because when you're eating a sausage you don't think so much about what you're eating. It's the same with communion wafers. .......... My point is, the miracle of the Holy Communion is when the priest turns these little white disks into the flesh of Jesus Christ. They call it transubstantiation. So, if you buy that, then the host the priest places on your tongue is actually a silver of Jesus meat. But they make the host as different from meat as they can, so even though communion is a form of cannibalism, nobody gets grossed out. Like with the sausages.

I, on the other hand, have no faith that your mission—whatever it is—can succeed. I’m content to bide my time here in this tiny, damp, worm-infested hovel and wait for the world to end. Cheers.

I paid you five thousand instead and promised the balance only if you made the match. As it turns out, this is your lucky day because I've decided to write you the full check, whether the match comes from you or from Portia. As long as I have a wife and you've been part of the process, you'll get your money." He toasted her with his beer mug. "Congratulations." She put down her fork. "Why would you do that?" "Because it's efficient." "Not as efficient as having Powers handle her own introductions. You're paying her a fortune to do exactly that." "I'd rather have you." Her pulse kicked. "Why?" He gave her the melty smile he must have been practicing since the cradle, one that made her feel as though she was the only woman in the world. "Because you're easier to bully. Do we have a deal or not?" "You don't want a matchmaker. You want a lackey." "Semantics. My hours are erratic, and my schedule changes without warning. It'll be your job to cope with all that. You'll soothe ruffled feathers when I need to cancel at the last minute. You'll keep my dates company when I'm going to be late, entertain them if I have to take a call. If things are going well, you'll disappear. If not, you'll make the woman disappear. I told you before. I work hard at my job. I don't want to have to work hard at this, too." "Basically, you expect me to find your bride, court her, and hand her over at the altar. Or do I have to come on the honeymoon, too?" "Definitely not." He gave her a lazy smile. "I can take care of that all by myself.

I once murdered someone and American Express covered everything.

I only run if chased. Even then, I'm only going hard enough to outrun the next slowest person

[On Oscar Wilde:] "If, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; We all assume that Oscar said it. [Life Magazine, June 2, 1927]

I ought to be jealous of the tower. She is more famous than I am.

I only read books if Voltaire's cock has been dipped in red ink and rolled over the cover.

I peeled the shorts off my sweating skin and stepped into the skirt. It slid up my body, resting on my waist, and I pulled the zipper up towards the lord. It didn't just fit. No, it did more than that. It melded to my body, beautifully, as if it had been cut specifically for me, to mask and smooth and elevate. I would be better in this skirt. The dream was happening! I had the all-knowing smile, my hair was suddenly more luxurious, I felt thinner, more acceptable. Girls who had been mean to me in high school would see me in this skirt and think, "Is that Scaachi?" and I'd say, "YOU BET IT IS, YOU DUMB BITCH" and then punch all their boyfriends in the teeth. (I have not thought this fantasy through; just let me have this.)

I once told him that the best way to break up a fight is to step between the two people and start singing ancient folk songs. But I’d never heard of anyone actually doing such a thing.

[On his Emmy win] I thought ‘ah, very, very nice’ and then I went to sleep.

I, on the other hand, am best friends with Wikipedia.' 'You know that site is woefully inaccurate a lot of the time, right? Because anyone can change the information.' 'Yep. I'm the girl changing the information to make it woefully inaccurate.' 'So half the high schoolers around the country have you to thank for their failing grades on research papers.' 'Yes, sir. I'm practically a celebrity. Or I would be if it wasn't anonymous.

I pat the brand new twenty-seven inch Macintosh computers Mr. Foley brought us. 'These boxes alone should make both of us scream like it's Christmas morning! Snap out of it. Santa came! Now we get to play with all of our toys!

I peeked in the bag. Do you know what was in there? I'll tell you what was in there: a collapsible tray table. Is there any sadder purchase in this fucking world? Maybe a CD of C+C Music Factory's Greatest Hits, but that's about it.

I picked out Nathan and James standing next to each other and wiggled in between them. "Dude we got lucky, threesome." James whispered over my head to Nathan. "Puh-leez..." I muttered and rolled my eyes. Nathan shushed us both.

I picked up the umeboshi from my tray and popped it into my mouth. I made a show of savoring the flavor. Truth be known, it was sour enough to twist my mouth as tight as a crab's ass at low tide, but I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of seeing that.

I prefer to use 'The Medieval Scapini Tarot' deck produced by U.S. Games Systems Inc., Stamford, Connecticut. The cards are beautiful, captivating and of excellent quality, and I endorse them wholeheartedly. I should add that I have no connection with U.S. Games Systems, and this is an unbiased endorsement. That having been said, if U.S. Games Systems were appreciative of my comments, and offered me many free packs of cards (or large sums of money) as a charming gesture of goodwill, I should be happy to accept such tokens without compromising my integrity in any way. They might like to bear in mind that in future editions of this book my endorsements may have 'evolved' in the direction of other card companies who are, perhaps, a little more generous in their appreciation of my valuable judgements.

I pride myself on being able to read whole chapters into a single syllable, you know? What girl doesn't? So when Lennon said "Hi", I ran through a whole list of possibilities. Was it, "Hi, I wish you were Chloe instead of Riley so I could make up with you"? Or did he mean, "You look exactly like the girl I'm totally over, so get out of my sight"? Or was it just, "Hi, I hope you're not as down on me as your sister is and, by the way, could you be careful not to spill anything, either"? But none of those sounded right. Finally I had to admit that he might have just been trying to say hello. Call me crazy, but it could be true!

I pat her on the head. "Oh, naive little Kitten. Dear, foolish girl. This cookie is worth all this and more. Sit or you will not partake.

I paused for a moment, debating whether to turn and look what was happening. My senses told me Obo’s presence was still at my side, and turning my face into the barrel of a gun seemed like an ill-advised way to cap off this day of monumentally stupid decisions.

I peered around the corner into the main recovery ward. All I could see were surgeons. Surgeons filling out those incessant forms. Surgeons bringing cups of tea and little sandwich triangles to patients. Surgeons laying in a lethargic stupor, recovering from eye surgery.

I pick up the list of Benji's five favorite books because we've got work to do: "Gravity's Rainbow" by Thomas Pynchon. He's a pretentious fuck and a liar. "Underworld" by Don DeLillo. He's a snob. "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac. He's a spoiled passport-carrying fuck stunted in eighth grade. "Brief Interviews with Hideous Men" by David Foster Wallace. Enough already. "The Red Badge of Courage" by Stephen Crane. He's got Mayflowers in his blood.

I pray this new year will be greater, smooth and brings best aroma to our smelling, normal burning for toothpicks, blue colours for great celebration, unlimited joy from nw, then and beyound in JESUS name ★FEYIKOGBON★

I prefer to make my annotations 'hot on the heels', as it were, when the fortunes of battle, the worries, hopes and disappointments are still sufficiently fresh in my mind. Much as I would like to, I cannot say this about these few games which will be given below. In fact, if the annotator should begin to use phrases of the type: 'in reply to...I had worked out the following variation...', the reader will rightly say 'Grandmaster, you are showing off', since the 'oldest' of these games is now more than 25 years old, and even the 'newest' more than 20. Therefore, I would ask you not to regard the following 'stylised' annotations too severely.

i prefer to think of the good times. Like when you held my hair as I was vomiting into a bucket.

I pulled my suitcase out of the backseat of my bug, along with Cannoli's new travel case, a spiffy animal print pet backpack on wheels. When I first saw it, I thought maybe the dog was supposed to wear the backpack, but it turned out the person wore the backpack with the dog in it.

I personally have my own idea of an efficient house. It would be totally concrete with a big drain in the middle, a large fiberglass tree for my kids to swing from and a hose hanging in the corner.

I planted a kamikaze kiss on Jamie’s cheek. “FUCK,” he shouted, wiping it off. “What if you killed me!” He threw a Skittle at my face. It hit my forehead. “Ow!” “Taste the rainbow bitch.

I prefer noodles when they're raw, they taste just as good, but reward you with a satisfying crunch...

I pulled the phone toward me and punched in the number of the sheriff's office in Flat Mesa. The deputy at the desk put me straight through. The phone made a couple of clicks, and then the sheriff's voice sounded in my ear. "Jones," he said. Dark, biting, laconic. "Hey, Nash. It's Janet." There was a long silence. "Fuck," Nash Jones said clearly, and he hung up on me.

I pondered what else I should take for him. Flowers seemed wrong; they're a love token, after all. I looked in the fridge, and popped a packet of cheese slices into the bag. All men like cheese.

I pray. I go to mass. I even remember to respect my elders and help little old ladies across the street. What the hell did I do to deserve this?