Humor Quotes - Page 89

Writer's block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol.

Here, I stole it for you. Why don’t you tell me what it’s for.”“Aw, Sophronia, how thoughtful. You brought me a present!

I don't know anymore, whether it's a curse or a blessing to see the beauty in the ugly. Growing up simply and getting old complexly. I now see reason behind sin, and love behind pain.

Anya jumped in front of the man, acting as his shield. “Now, Sabin. He didn’t mean any harm. He’s borderline stupid. You know that.

At some point, our lips met and it was perhaps the most wonderful thing I'd ever experienced. And truly, I guess there wasn't just one kiss, but several. A polite frenzy. A mass migration of delicate wildebeest kisses. I remember them as one transcendent event, though.

Why it's simply impassible!Alice: Why, don't you mean impos

Doubtful, but it did work..."Annabeth?" Percy said again. "You're planning something. You've got that I'm-planning-something look.""I don't have an I'm-planning-something look.""Yeah, you totally do. Your eyebrows knit and your lips press together and ---""Do you have a pen?" she asked him."You're kidding, right?" He brought out Riptide."Yes, but can you actually write with it?""I--I don't know," he admitted. "Never tried.

She needed to come with an instructional manual. And one not written in Spanish.

I don't have a hot date. I don't even have a lukewarm date.

I alternate between feeling sympathetic toward humanity and being a misanthrope. When I'm sympathetic, it usually means I haven't been around people in awhile.

In life we have our trophy people. These are the ones we work hard for, we are proud of. We want to show them off to our family, our friends, we want them on our arm at company functions. We take pictures with them to let everyone know we feel like a winner and we are happy.Then you have your participation ribbons, the ribbons you get just for simply showing up. You didn't have to earn it, it was just given to you. These things usually end up in a drawer somewhere, maybe you pick them up again when you are bored and say "that was a fun night, I wonder if they are still handing out these things?" but you don't tell people about it, nothing to be proud of.

In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all the holders of houses above a certain rent are women. If a married couple come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he is either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Cranford parties, or he is accounted for by being with his regiment, his hip, or closely engaged in business all the week in the great neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on a railroad. In short, whatever does become of the gentlemen, they are not at Cranford.

After a universal silence, Leo was the first to speak. “Did anyone else notice—”“Yes,” Catherine said. “What do you make of it?”“I haven’t decided yet.” Leo frowned and took a sip of port. “He’s not someone I would pair Bea with.”“Whom would you pair her with?”“Hanged if I know,” Leo said. “Someone with similar interests. The local veterinarian, perhaps?”“He’s eighty-three years old and deaf,” Catherine said.“They would never argue,” Leo pointed out.

I used to think the world was broken down by tribes,' I said. 'By Black and White. By Indian and White. But I know this isn't true. The world is only broken into two tribes: the people who are assholes and the people who are not.

The value of a sex manual does not lie in its length or duration, but whether or not the problem it addresses works.

As it stands right now, I lead Richard Pryor in heart attacks, two to one. However, Richard still leads me, one to nothing, in burning yourself up.

You wanna go build some shelves with me?

I'm so pretty, it's hard for me to think of myself as intelligent.

Frank stared at her. "But you throw Ding Dongs at monsters."Iris looked horrified. "Oh, they're not Ding Dongs."She rummaged under the counter and brought out a package of chocolate covered cakes that looked exactly like Ding Dongs. "These are gluten-free, no-sugar-added, vitamin-enriched, soy-free, goat-milk-and-seaweed-based cupcake simulations.""All natural!" Fleecy chimed in."I stand corrected." Frank suddenly felt as queasy as Percy.

Don't get mad about the infestation of fleas if you keep shopping at the dog pound.

I'm so much more scared of white guys than black guys. Like an angry black guys would pull out a gun and be like 'Yo, I'm coming back with my cousins and we're gonna funck you up' and a white guy would be like just 'BANG'!

Writers are the most pathetic souls when it comes to expressing their own feelings. Their personalities are as complex as the characters they weave.

Writing a story is like ruling the world. Except it's even better. How many rulers out there that you know can tell people what they say?

Jane's stories are too sensible. Then Diana puts too much murders into hers. She says most of the time she doesn't know what to do with the people so she kills them off to get rid of them." -Anne Shirley

Hermits have no peer pressure.

Helen likes Brussels sprouts. How can anyone trust her opinion?

I turned into the Greenbrier High School parking lot with a singular mission: figure out a way to keep my brothers from chasing off every guy who seemed interested in me.

An outline, my body, no mass or feeling, A dark reflection spread from floor to ceiling, The faceless copycat stalks me day after day, A personal eclipse of the sun never going astray, Each movement mine in a world of its own, Whispering shades unseen of a different home, A skewed yet comparable story occurs every day, Removed, though not far, less than halfway, The whiter the glow the blacker the stain, An ethereal cachet remaining midst the acidic rain, A trust and intimacy of a curious nature, I follow, it follows, we follow a stranger.

Because this absolutely insane - the craziest thing I'd ever done. Worse than giving a one-star review, scarier than asking for an interview with an author I'd give my firstborn to eat lunch with, more stupid than kissing Daemon.

I was sweating like Christy Moore at a Feis Ceol, so badly, in fact, I looked like I was sporting a finger moustache as I attempted to rescue suicidal perspiration drops from my upper lip. Classy.

Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.”“Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows.There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter.“Shut up, idiot.

How is it possible to have a civil war?

I'm tired of being scared, and I know you are too. Not that there isn't alot to be scared of in this world today, between the non-stop headlines about wars and nuclear power plants and terrorists and assasinations and civil unrest and economic uncertainty and political doublespeak and insane weather and an environment that's becoming unhealthier by the day. But a point comes when it's too much to deal with, and thinking about it accomplishes nothing more than sending you to bed with a cold cloth on your head.

Sometimes am so worried,i complain to God that He's not been listening to my prayers,and then my son comes and says,"hey dad,why are you not mom?"ilook at him and say,God.you've already answered my prayers with the best..who knows whats on the way for me?.

I was just struggling with my inner vachette and pondering the depths of my own inhumanity.

I had a dream about you last night. We were plug sockets in the bedroom. We saw only a short part of their day, but we knew everything of it.

We need to remember what's important in life: friends, waffles, work. Or waffles, friends, work. Doesn't matter, but work is third.

And your life,' Katie said to Christy, 'is turning into a rather predictable romance. Girl meets boy. Boy is a dork for four years. Girl blossoms into a gorgeous woman. Boy finds his brain. Girl turns into starry-eyed mush head.

There are some dogs which, when you meet them, remind you that, despite thousands of years of man-made evolution, every dog is still only two meals away from being a wolf. These dogs advance deliberately, purposefully, the wilderness made flesh, their teeth yellow, their breath a-stink, while in the distance their owners witter, "He's an old soppy really, just poke him if he's a nuisance," and in the green of their eyes the red campfires of the Pleistocene gleam and flicker.

[Harrier] locked eyes with Zanattar. He couldn't remember another time in his life when he'd been this angry and hadn't hit something.

John Wesley’s own grave holds the bones of many other people, including at least five ministers. One can only imagine the bickering.

Frustration, arousal, fury, hurt. That was the emotional cocktail I drank every time we spent more than five minutes together.

It took me several minutes to persuade myself to watch the news. During which time I gave myself a stern talking to. That turned into me considering a local pub that would be the perfect place to drown my sorrows in a barrel of tequila, though after much introspection, I scratched the idea just to avoid needless drunken embarrassment. Then, admittedly, I contemplated pouncing Andrew for another steamy romp session. Despite its proven potency to assuage stress and tension, I decided now was not the time to indulge in explosive sexcapades.

Why do people go to church on Sundays? A question that is very complicated because I know what the answer is supposed to be but I do not really know the answer.. I think people go because it is a kind of tradition. I think some goes because someone told them if tgey do not they might go to hell. Maybe some go to look for a wife or husband ☺. Maybe some go to church to display their latest designer shoes or handbags. Some goes just to please their Pastor. Some people go to church because they love the music or the preaching. Some goes because of some social reasons and friendship. Some have it in their mind that they will experience the presence of God in the church. Some goes to church because of miracle. Some goes to church when they are expecting something maybe child, comfort, marriage, work etc.. Some felt it is an obligation to give God a day out of the seven days he createdLet me tell you that church is not there to entertain you, Ephesians 3:20... there are things going on in the church that some people barely know about.Ask yourself today why do I go to church. I am sure a sincere answer will help you.

Teachers're always using that "in your own words." I hate that. Authors knit their sentences tight. It's their job. Why make us unpick them, just to put it back together more shonkily? How're you s'posed to say Kapellmeister if you can't say Kapellmeister?

It is a State of Mind... and am the president

A few said they'd be horses. Most said they'd be some sort of cat. My friend said she'd like to come back as a porcupine. I don't like crowds, she said.

Learn to look up now and then, just in case a piano is falling from overhead.

Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.

Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning do to do afterward.

When you battle with your conscience and lose, you win. -Henny Youngman, comedian and violinist (1906-1998)

From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere!

We the living are to blame for the painfulness of being dead.

Sweet Pocket, you mustn’t ask about my life before I came here. What I am now, I have always been, and everything I am is here with you.”　　“Sweet Thalia,” said I. “That is a fiery flagon of dragon toss.

To summarize the summary of the summary: people are a problem.

When you don't fit in anymore, eat less.

After all, this was the place where I’d had my first meaningful conversation with a female, it was the site of a football’s first encounter with my groin, and above all, it was the location where I was first punched in the face by a bully. Somewhere out there, a tooth of mine lay deep within the soil.

Yes, the saint was underrated quite a bit, then, mostly by people who didn’t like things that were ineffable……a lot of people don’t like things that are unearthly, the things of this earth are good enough for them, and they don’t mind telling you so. “If he’d just go out and get a job, like everybody else, then he could be saintly all day long…” —from “The Temptations of St. Anthony,” by Donald Barthelme

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

Latin is already a dead language, man... don't make it any deader.