Best 15707 quotes in «humor quotes» category

What is Time, O sister of similar features, that you speak of it so subserviently? Are we to be the slaves of the sun, that secondhand overrated knob of gilt, or of his sister, that fatuous circle of silver paper? A curse upon their ridiculous dictatorship!

What kind of husband would I be if I bet against my own marriage?' I smiled. 'The stupid kind. Didn't you listen to your dad when he told you not to bet against me?

What is with these guys? Where's the thrill in watching snakes eat? I certainly didn't thrill in watching humans eat.

What is your motive when you go to church? To feed or to be fed? To serve or to be served? To worship or to be worshipped? To praise or to be praised? To teach or to learn? To give or to receive? Remember the woman with the issue of blood did not met Jesus in the church. Blind barthimus was blind though he could hear did not see Jesus but heard about Jesus passing; I am just wondering how many people have heard about Jesus through you? Who was this man interested in? Your answer might be Jesus of course but definitely not. The man loves himself and so was seeking healing even when the crowd could not allow him see Jesus. Let the crowd in the church not deceive you because God usually speak to one. (A bit deep).

What I want is a beautiful and sophisticated piece of ass that happens to be 'bi.

What just like that? You're not going to tell the chicken plucker you're leaving?" "She already knows," Grimalkin said picking his way across the yard. "And incidentally, 'the old chicken plucker' can hear every word you say, so I suggest we hurry. After she is done with the fowl, she intends to come after you as well.

What is your collective GPA for this year?” “Not as high as I'd like it to be.” Freud steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “What about your parents?” “I don't know. They haven't been in school for a while.

What larks we had," said James. "When?" "When we were young." I could not recall any larks I had had with James. I poured out the wine and we sat in silence.

What kind of one-night stand takes your car the next morning? It’s called the walk of shame, not grand theft auto.

What makes you think I’d know this woman?’ Hunter knew what he was trying to do. ‘Listen, P-Diddy . . .’ ‘D-King . . .’ ‘Whatever.

What life is to humor, humor is to life.

What makes the Arctic VarChar so unusual and popular is that each bite has a different taste. As you carve your way into the ersatz fillet, you might find yourself chewing on smoked salmon, tender tuna, marinated mackerel, seared snapper, raw roe, baked barracuda, grilled goldfish, or even pickled perch, to alliterate just a few.

What man is able to do that, that thou should ask such things of me?

What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?

What mental hospital have you escaped from?” She wanted to laugh, but he looked so serious. “Prove you’re an alien. Rip off your disguise. Show me your antennae. Where’s your union card?

What, no Star Wars?" Solo sighs. "I wanted to bring the original, unaltered Episode IV, in which my namesake shoots first, as our Lord and savior intended." "Why didn't you?" "I only have it on VHS, and my dad's old VHS player broke halfway through the summer.

What’s a pandemonium?” whispered one of the men in the rear. “It’s like a calliope,” answered a companion. “I heard one played at the Harmony Fair last summer, when I went there to see my sister’s boy play his organ.” “His what?” “His organ.” “Lord. People pay money to see things like that?

What’s bosoms?” Cade asked. “You’ll find out when you get older,” Jake said. "A lot older," Colt said.

What positions are kings supposed to put themselves in?” “Padded rooms without windows or pointy objects, if my staff had its druthers.” “No pointy objects at all?” Kaika quirked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like much fun.

What

What's all this nonsense about odd vision and not fitting in? There are plenty worse things in this world than not fitting in--like fitting in way too much. You strike me as a real original, Izzy Malone, in a world that loves carbon copies. If you think you beautified something, I believe you. I've never understood why folks love safe, neutral colors so much. Colors are what make this world worth living in.

What New England is, is a state of mind, a place where dry humor and perpetual disappointment blend to produce an ironic pessimism that folks from away find most perplexing

What plan of action? What can be done? We can’t fight the whole society.” “I was thinking we could use you as bait and draw them into a trap,” Gregori said, straight-faced. Gary’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not sure I like that plan. Sounds a little risky to me.” He looked at Savannah for support. Gregori shrugged his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “I do not see a risk.” Savannah’s small clenched fist thumped his stomach in retaliation. Gregori glanced down at her with surprise. “Is this when I am supposed to say ouch?” Savannah and Gary exchanged a long, mournful groan. “Why did I want him to have a sense of humor?” she wondered. Gary shook his head. “Don’t be asking me. You created the monster.

What's a Dullahan?' 'He's a headless horseman, in the service of the banshee.' 'Headless?' 'Yes.' 'Seriously?' 'Yes.' 'So he has no head?' 'That's usually what headless means.' 'No head at all?' 'You're really getting hung up on this headless thing, aren't you?' 'It's just kind of silly, even for us.' 'Yet you spend your days with a living skeleton.' 'But at least he has a head.' 'True.' 'He even has a spare.

What?' said Oscar. 'You're not going to remark on all the mind-blowing things I can do?' Ruby gestured halfheartedly in Oscar's direction. 'Oscar can eat two extra-large pizzas in one sitting while quoting the entire third season of Star Avengers from memory.' Oscar nodded solemnly. 'It's hard to believe I even exist.

What say you, Empress of Praes? Here you lie upon the blood-soaked ruins of your dominion, surrounded by the corpses of the legions that once swarmed over the world. Hundreds of thousands dead for the sake of your wretched ambition, your mad design to bring to heel the kingdoms of man. In all the history of Creation no one woman has been so wicked as you, and I will have my answer. Why, o Empress of Ruins?” She shrugged. “Why not?” – Last lines of the “The Fall of Empress Triumphant, First and Only of Her Name

What’s funny? Who defines what’s funny? To be honest funny has no dimensions.

What she means is, I might look like a pussy but I'm really a badass demon.

What should I do?" I turned to Negin. "I don't know." "Are you a doctor or not?" I screeched. "As I have said a thousand times, I won't be a doctor for seven years.

What's it like?" "Death? It's like being on holiday with a group of Germans.

Whats on my mind? I think the question is, where is my mind?

What starts in the heart doesn't stay in the heart, it either turn into action or words.

What's that?" "He just fell from that tower!" "Is he dead?" "He's alive, I think." Someone bent over me. "Are you alive?" "I'm alive," I said breathlessly, "and I'm going to have a baby." "What did he just say?" "Something about a baby." "A baby." I said, and then I blacked out.

What's his full name again?" Seamus was rubbing his chin. Dan hesitated, glancing at me and then away. "Bark Wahlberg," he grumbled.

What's his toast?

What's more important than recycling? Producing something to recycle.

What's that, honey? What was I doing while Uncle Gabe was dueling a god with all of civilization at stake? Why, I was wrestling in the muck with an exceptionally tenacious cow.

What’s THAT?!” Laurent screeched as the bushes directly next to them began to move. A hundred things ran through Madi’s mind: that serial killers really should choose more productive ways to spend their time, that her sister Sarah was going to be out-of-control when their parents broke the news Madi’d been murdered, that it was a really stupid twist of fate that Madi’d found the man of her dreams only to lose him, and lastly— That really looks like a squirrel. “RUN!” Laurent bellowed as the little creature took two bouncing steps toward them and stopped, staring at them with interest.

What's that you're doing, Sassenach?" "Making out little Gizmo's birth certificate--so far as I can," I added. "Gizmo?" he said doubtfully. "That will be a saint's name?" "I shouldn't think so, though you never know, what with people named Pantaleon and Onuphrius. Or Ferreolus." "Ferreolus? I dinna think I ken that one." He leaned back, hands linked over his knee. "One of my favorites," I told him, carefully filling in the birthdate and time of birth--even that was an estimate, poor thing. There were precisely two bits of unequivocal information on this birth certificate--the date and the name of the doctor who's delivered him. "Ferreolus," I went on with some new enjoyment, "is the patron saint of sick poultry. Christian martyr. He was a Roman tribune and a secret Christian. Having been found out, he was chained up in the prison cesspool to await trial--I suppose the cells must have been full. Sounds rather daredevil; he slipped his chains and escaped through the sewer. They caught up with him, though, dragged him back and beheaded him." Jamie looked blank. "What has that got to do wi' chickens?" "I haven't the faintest idea. Take it up with the Vatican," I advised him. "Mmphm. Aye, well, I've always been fond of Saint Guignole, myself." I could see the glint in his eye, but couldn't resist. "And what's he the patron of?" "He's involved against impotence." The glint got stronger. "I saw a statue of him in Brest once; they did say it had been there for a thousand years. 'Twas a miraculous statue--it had a cock like a gun muzzle, and--" "A what?" "Well, the size wasna the miraculous bit," he said, waving me to silence. "Or not quite. The townsfolk say that for a thousand years, folk have whittled away bits of it as holy relics, and yet the cock is still as big as ever." He grinned at me. "They do say that a man w' a bit of St. Guignole in his pocket can last a night and a day without tiring." "Not with the same woman, I don't imagine," I said dryly. "It does rather make you wonder what he did to merit sainthood, though, doesn't it?" He laughed. "Any man who's had his prayer answered could tell yet that, Sassenach." (PP. 841-842)

What's his name?" Jessica asked. "Kai," I said. "Kai Awana." Paisley nudged me. "I'm sure you know him as Kai Awana jump his bones.

What's it going to take for you to open that door? Gold? Blood?" "Your name and password." "My name is Honorous Jorg Ancrath, my password is divine right. Now open the fecking door.

What's poking me?" "An involuntary reflex," Jake said, "Roll over at your own risk." "Is it going to be a chronic condition?" "God, I hope so, I'm too young to have those kinds of medical issues." "I have a cure." "What?" he asked. "Sandwiching a pillow between us?" "Amputation." "Never mind," Jake said grimly, "Problem solved.

What’s that horrible burning smell?” yelled Beth when she regathered her senses. “I think it’s you,” Fitz yelled over the crashing noise around them.

what’s meant for you will reach you in time, and if you embrace it with your arms wide open it might just stay with you forever and bless you with more happiness than you could ever envision.

What’s not so great is that all this technology is destroying our social skills. Not only have we given up on writing letters to each other, we barely even talk to each other. People have become so accustomed to texting that they’re actually startled when the phone rings. It’s like we suddenly all have Batphones. If it rings, there must be danger. Now we answer, “What happened? Is someone tied up in the old sawmill?” “No, it’s Becky. I just called to say hi.” “Well you scared me half to death. You can’t just pick up the phone and try to talk to me like that. Don’t the tips of your fingers work?

What’s that around your neck?” asked Emily. “It’s a golden star.” Said Reed. “What did you get it for?” “Chemistry class.” “What’s the star for?” the shadow asked, Usually stars represent a straight A student. “You get it for having greatness. But Emily doesn’t know what that is.” He said, answering the shadows question and looking at Emily. “Greatness, what’s greatness?” Emily asked, all wide eyed, and clueless looking “It’s when you do really awesome stuff, and people recognize you for it.” “Oh, no” Emily laughed .”No, I don’t know what that is.

What's that?' Thaniel said, curious. The postmarks and stamps weren't English or Japanese. 'A painting. There's a depressed Dutchman who does countryside scenes and flowers and things. It's ugly, but I have to maintain the estates in Japan and modern art is a good investment.

What’s the difference between Yo Mama and a 747? -About 20 pounds. -Yo mama carries more passengers. -Not everyone's been on a 747.

What's more nuttier than a field of nuts? A field of Nuts.

What some people need," said Magrat, to the world in general, "is a bit more heart." "What some people need," said Granny Weatherwax, to the stormy sky, "is a lot more brain." Then she clutched at her hat to stop the wind from blowing it off. What I need, thought Nanny Ogg fervently, is a drink.