Best 15707 quotes in «humor quotes» category

The Revelation of Hashmal, which GOD gave unto him, to shew unto His servants things which shortly must come to pass; and Hashmal sent and signified it to his servant Simeon: Who bare record of the word of GOD, and of the testimony of Hashmal, and of all the things that he saw.

There was a movement to my right, and I snuck a quick glance to see Zee and Gabriel coming out the garage door. They must have gone back around. Zee had a crowbar in one hand and held it like another man might hold a sword. Gabriel had— “Zee,” I squeaked. “Tell him to put the torque wrench back and grab something that won’t cost me five hundred dollars if he hits someone with it.” “Won’t cost five hundred,” said Zee, but as I glanced over again, he nodded at the white-faced Gabriel, who looked at what he held as if he’d never seen it before. The boy slipped back into the garage as Zee said, “It wouldn’t break it — you’d just have to get it recalibrated.” “We have a whole garage worth of tools — pry bars, tire irons, and even a hammer or two. There’s got to be something better than my torque wrench he could have grabbed.

There was a naked jock on my bed and a thing with tentacles coming out of my toilet. One of these things did not belong, and if you tell me that it was the naked jock, you shouldn't be reading this story.

There was a sound of steel meeting steel. Devin flung a desperate look over his shoulder, saw Hewet fending off two men behind him, and looked ahead in time to see ten men in light armor ride out of the trees up ahead and drive straight for him. He almost swallowed the flute. He threw an arm over his face, too shocked to be terrified, and waited to die.

There was a sort of gallery structure in the roof space which held a bed and also a bathroom which you could actually swing a cat in. But only if it was a reasonably patient cat and didn’t mind a few nasty cracks about the head.

There was no one to really argue with, but Mama managed it expertly every chance she had. She could argue with the entire world in that kitchen and almost every evening, she did.

There was a rare quality about Nurse Grace’s smile. It was the knowledge that sooner or later her smile would inspire some witty observer to say something around the lines of, “Every time you do this, an angel farts”.

There was a rifle on his lap. "Hey, Hunter," Myron said.

There was Malcolm in the front row, his hand resting on the shoulder of the knight I knew as Poe. I looked at the list of names beneath the photo. -James Orcutt. What a ridiculously normal name. I’d half been expecting Darth Vader

There was no sense to life, to the structure of things. D.H. Lawrence had known that. You needed love, but not the kind of love most people used and were used up by. Old D.H. had known something. His buddy Huxley was just an intellectual fidget, but what a marvelous one. Better than G.B. Shaw with that hard keel of a mind always scraping bottom, his labored wit finally only a task, a burden on himself, preventing him from really feeling anything, his brilliant speech finally a bore, scraping the mind and the sensibilities. It was good to read them all though. It made you realize that thoughts and words could be fascinating, if finally useless.

. . . there was little to choose between Jews and Catholics. The Jews had holidays that turned up out of the blue and the Catholics had children in much the same way.

There was no Disney World then, just rows of orange trees. Millions of them. Stretching for miles And somewhere near the middle was the Citrus Tower, which the tourists climbed to see even more orange trees. Every month an eighty-year-old couple became lost in the groves, driving up and down identical rows for days until they were spotted by helicopter or another tourist on top of the Citrus Tower. They had lived on nothing but oranges and come out of the trees drilled on vitamin C and checked into the honeymoon suite at the nearest bed-and-breakfast. "The Miami Seaquarium put in a monorail and rockets started going off at Cape Canaveral, making us feel like we were on the frontier of the future. Disney bought up everything north of Lake Okeechobee, preparing to shove the future down our throats sideways. "Things evolved rapidly! Missile silos in Cuba. Bales on the beach. Alligators are almost extinct and then they aren't. Juntas hanging shingles in Boca Raton. Richard Nixon and Bebe Rebozo skinny-dipping off Key Biscayne. We atone for atrocities against the INdians by playing Bingo. Shark fetuses in formaldehyde jars, roadside gecko farms, tourists waddling around waffle houses like flocks of flightless birds. And before we know it, we have The New Florida, underplanned, overbuilt and ripe for a killer hurricane that'll knock that giant geodesic dome at Epcot down the trunpike like a golf ball, a solid one-wood by Buckminster Fuller. "I am the native and this is my home. Faded pastels, and Spanish tiles constantly slipping off roofs, shattering on the sidewalk. Dogs with mange and skateboard punks with mange roaming through yards, knocking over garbage cans. Lunatics wandering the streets at night, talking about spaceships. Bail bondsmen wake me up at three A.M. looking for the last tenant. Next door, a mail-order bride is clubbed by a smelly ma in a mechanic's shirt. Cats violently mate under my windows and rats break-dance in the drop ceiling. And I'm lying in bed with a broken air conditioner, sweating and sipping lemonade through a straw. And I'm thinking, geez, this used to be a great state. "You wanna come to Florida? You get a discount on theme-park tickets and find out you just bough a time share. Or maybe you end up at Cape Canaveral, sitting in a field for a week as a space shuttle launch is canceled six times. And suddenly vacation is over, you have to catch a plane, and you see the shuttle take off on TV at the airport. But you keep coming back, year after year, and one day you find you're eighty years old driving through an orange grove.

There was no laudanum and Liddy made a terrible fuss when I proposed carbolic acid, just because I had put too much on the cotton once and burned her mouth.

There was no Lo to behold.

There was hardly an eminent writer in Paris who was unacquainted with the inside of the Conciergerie or the Bastille.

There was no part of this house that felt inviting. Paul's cold, calculating hand could be seen behind every choice. The concrete on the entryway floor was polished to a dark mirror straight out of Snow White. The spiral stairs looked like a robot's asshole. The endless white walls made Lydia feel like she was trapped inside a straightjacket. The sooner she was out of here the better.

There was no way to have a civilized conversation with that guy. It's like he was raised by giraffes or something.

There was one floor that was all gynecologists. They could tell by the remnants of weird optical contraptions- all the convoluted tools men use when they're searching for the source of their anxieties.

There was a wonderful old man [...] who had a piece of property [...] he would rent out for twenty dollards a year or so to any young person he thought might have a future in the arts. [...] He declared he wouldn't install running water because he didn't like the class of people it attracted.

There was once a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler’s mind.

There was pie on the table when Tugs returned. Pie in the Button family meant trouble.

There was no way she was staying trapped with tea at a time like this.

There was something about that man when he was all angry and dangerous that got my blood up. Sometimes my survival instincts are not what they should be.

There was something ghost-like and insubstantial about gases to these early chemists. They called liquids that turned into gases easily, "spirits." Methyl alcohol, they called "wood spirit"; ethyl alcohol, "wine spirit." Even today, alcoholic beverages are frequently referred to as "spirits." (Modern Arabs, from whose language the word "alcohol" was taken, call ethyl alcohol "spirit" from the English. This is a queer exchange.)

There was something pleasant about an empty classroom. Of course, as any teacher would point out, one nice thing was that there were no children in it.

There was so much testosterone in the air, I felt like I needed a gas mask.

There were a few nighttime pedestrians on the block, but they continued on their way, dutifully ignoring the zombie vomiting blood out of the back of my car. Good old New Yorkers. They really couldn't care less.

There were a few things scarier than a bipolar vampire off his meds, but to be honest, not that many.

There were certain things that had to be done, and if done at all, done handsomely and thoroughly; and one of these, in the old New York code, was the tribal rally around a kinswoman about to be eliminated from the tribe.

There was some kind of commotion going on in the suite, which shouldn't have been a surprise considering it was his family's suite. The air was filled with cursing, exclamations, and grunts of physical combat. "Leo?" Beatrix appeared from the main receiving room and hurried over to them. "Beatrix, darling!" Leo was amazed by the difference the past two and a half years had made in his youngest sister. "How you've grown--" "Yes, never mind that," she said impatiently, snatching the ferret from him. "Go in there and help Mr. Rohan!" "Help him with what?" "He's trying to stop Merripen from killing Dr. Harrow." "Already?" Leo asked blankly, and rushed into the receiving room.

There were no windows in my bedroom, so I had to sit up and read my clock to figure out how angry I should be at my visitor. Eight A.M. I hated whoever woke me up. Had they come an hour earlier, I would have also hated their families and any household pets.

There were pecans, there were cashews and then there was just plain nuts.

There were no footmarks.' 'Meaning that you saw none?' 'I assure you, sir, that there were none.' 'My good Hopkins, I have investigated many crimes, but I have never yet seen one which was committed by a flying creature. As long as the criminal remains upon two legs so long must there be some indentation, some abrasion, some trifling displacement which can be detected by the scientific searcher.

There were people who believed their opportunities to live a fulfilled life were hampered by the number of Asians in England, by the existance of a royal family, by the volume of traffic that passed by their house, by the malice of trade unions, by the power of callous employers, by the refusal of the health service to take their condition seriously, by communism, by capitalism, by atheism, by anything, in fact, but their own futile, weak-minded failure to get a fucking grip.

There were still few rules at Down House, and Charles was not very good at enforcing the ones he and Emma did make. This was well known among his children. In 1855, when Lenny was about five, Charles walked in to find his son jumping up and down and tumbling all over a new sofa. 'Oh Lenny, Lenny,' Charles said. 'You know it is against all rules.' 'Then,' Lenny said to his papa, 'I think you'd better go out of the room.' And so Charles did.

There were two cannons at the hostel gate. One for Romeos, one for Peeping Toms.

There were upsides to the whole mess. While Douglas was holding me hostage, I’d met a girl—I mean, screw dating websites and house parties; apparently all the really eligible ladies are being held in cages these days. I would have liked to see Brid fill out a dating questionnaire, though. What would she put? “Hi, my name is Bridin Blackthorn. I’m next in line to rule the local werewolf pack. I like long walks on the beach and destroying my enemies. I have four older brothers, so watch your step. We’ll be forming a queue to the left for potential suitors.” And, trust me, there would be a queue.

There will be days that you don’t want to dress up and if you have some decent looking athletic wear, you can give the illusion that you’ve just been working out, as opposed to giving up on life.

There will be others, many others. You’ll try desperately to digest a single word through the acronym-laden gibberish, while beginning to wonder what the point of all this is, and also why you didn’t feel that staple you just sent into your thigh. You usually do. You’ll wonder what your company even does. After six years, you have no idea what an information system is, do you? Maybe you should ask. Maybe that’s how this ends. You’ll imagine how poetic it would be to simply unmute yourself and say, “Sorry to interrupt, guys, but what’s an information system?” Still, your mind will drift further, envisioning how much more tolerable this call would be if you could just slowly masturbate during it. So you do. You masturbate during it. And it’s beautiful. Masturbating, invisible within your three-walled fortress. Invisible… invisible… practically invisible.

There would be fewer absent fathers, if straight men were turned on only by women with whom they would not mind having children.

There will come a time in life, when you have to take decisions from your own. Choose wisely. As whatever you choose, will require your “complete time” & “attention”. So you must need to trust yourself, whenever you have to make a life’s decision.

There would be a spike in the number of girls who went out for a walk in the woods and were never heard from again. There always were when stories came out portraying the terra indigene as furry humans who just wanted to be loved. Most of the terra indigene didn't want to love humans; they wanted to eat them. Why did humans have such a hard time understanding that?

The right place; that was what he was looking for. The right place. Place was all important, place meant everything. Take this rock… "Take you, rock," he said. He squinted at it. Ah yes, here we have the nasty big flat rock, sitting doing nothing, just amoral and dull, and it sits like an island in the polluted pool. The pool is a tiny lake on the little island, and the island is in a drowned crater. The crater is a volcanic crater, the volcano forms part of an island in a big inland sea. The inland sea is like a giant lake on a continent and the continent is like an island sitting in the seas of the planet. The planet is like an island on the sea of space within its system, and the system floats within the cluster, which is like an island in the sea of the galaxy, which is like an island in the archipelago of of its local group, which is an island within the universe; the universe is like an island floating in a sea of space in the Continua, and they float like islands in the Reality, and… But down through the Continua, the Universe, the Local Group, the Galaxy, the Cluster, the System, the Planet, the Continent, the Island, the Lake, the Island… the rock remained. AND THAT MEANT THE ROCK, THE CRAPPY AWFUL ROCK HERE WAS THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE, THE CONTINUA, THE WHOLE REALITY!

The ring was there to say they were a team, a reminder that they were in this together, almost like a private joke only the two of them got.

There ya are.” Erik grinned at her as he came bounding down the steps two at a time. He stepped around his statue of a sister as if such a thing were normal. Perhaps here it was. He paused, nodding at Malina. “Morning, banshee.” He gave a small brotherly laugh and poked his thumb toward her face. “She does kind of look like a banshee with her hair flying around like that and her mouth all open. Yeah, ma froze her good. See how her eyes don’t move?” Erik leaned closer to her and grinned as he looked into her mouth. “Ha, Euann put a mint in there.

The right things often happen for the wrong reason.

The Road to Hell is Paved With Bad Intentions

The room had the rather sinister tedium which some bedrooms have, a sort of weary banality which is a reminder of death. A dressing table can be a terrible thing.

The Romans construed Jesus Chris’s crucifixion as a defeat, but what do we have today? Christianity triumphed. Jesus Christ never betrayed himself, he never betrayed his mission and he never corrupted the ideas that God wants us to live by. The Cameroonian soul is genuine. It is noble, and it embodies humaneness. There is no reason to try to kill it because it will triumph ultimately.

The room continued to spin though she was standing still, but her ears were hot. She felt like she'd just slammed three doubles of tequila and needed a fistfight chaser.