Quotes About Humor

No, officer, I have no idea why I'm wearing this possum costume. I called you what? OH. My bad." -Nastasya

Of course, when we got home, we found that Dagda had peed on my down comforter. He had also eaten part of Mom's maidenhair fern and barfed it up on the carpet. Then he had apparently worked himself into a frenzy sharpening his ting by amazingly effective claws on the armrest of my dad's favorite chair. Now he was asleep on a pillow, curled up like a fuzzy little snail. "God, he's so cute," I said, shaking my head.

Bree smiled at me. "Don't worry about me. I think I can handle him. In fact, I want to handle him," she joked. "All over.

Yes, word had gotten around about my amusing little defeathering trick (note: made the chicken naked). Apparently we couldn't just eat the poor thing and be done with it. Apparently we had to knit cunning lil' sweaters for it so it could squawk around the yard, feeling fancy.

The satirical magazine Punch, at that period closer in spirit to today's Private Eye, editorialized that: 'A London churchyard is very like a London omnibus. It can be made to carry any number.

I'm not quite in the grave yet, darling. I just have my reservation confirmed.

Suddenly it struck her as hysterically funny. She had been captured by savages and dragged halfway across Texas. Never once, not even when he had just cause, had Hunter hit her with enough force to hurt her, and never in the face. She'd had to come home to receive that kind of abuse. She sank onto the planked bench and started to laugh, a high-pitched, half-mad laughter. Aunt Rachel crossed herself, and that only made her laugh harder.

Henry jerked up his left suspender and raked his hand through his hair, looking at the hole Rachel had shot in the puncheon. "What in hell you gonna tell people happened to your floor, missy?" Rachel smiled. "Why, I'll tell them how quick you got in and fixed it, Henry. We can't have holes in the floor, can we?

Are you hurt anywhere?" Rachel demanded. "No, not a scratch. Just a little grimy around the edges." "Lands, you are in a tangle. Don't those Injuns have soap?" "Not a sniff." Loretta laughed, feeling giddy, not quite able to believe Hunter had brought her here as promised. "Maybe that's a bad choice of words. I bet I smell to high heaven." "Like a little smokehouse.

Make me a story." "Hunter, I don't have a stitch of clothes on," she squeaked. One of his dark eyebrows flicked upward. "You must have clothes to make stories?

Speaking of pits in plum pudding, do you remember your sister's first attempt? Your grandfather broke off his only remaining tooth trying to eat it." "And swallowed tooth, pit and all, so he wouldn't embarrass her in front of Gray Horse, who had come to court her.

A-are you going on a raid tomorrow after you take me home?" He glanced up from his work. "With this? His dark eyes filled with laughter as he peered along the crooked shaft of the lance. "Blue Eyes, a crooked tse-ak such as this would kill my friend beside me.

No more fear, eh? If I grow angry, I will bring you my mother's spoon." She sniffed and laughed. "A lot of good a spoon would be.

I hate when I'm an idiot and I don't know it. I like to be aware of my idiocy, to really revel in it, take pictures.

As we eyed them over our hot cocoa, we all immediately, without discussing it, started talking a bit more loudly about where we were going for lunch. Yeah, we can be kind of immature when we want to be.

But I got this picture of me with my skis crossed, butt up, face down, in the snow. Then, the next day, Gretchen and I sitting on the sofa, side by side, staring out the picture window, waiting for something interesting to happen, for someone to fall on their way past. Spring would come and we'd still be there, immobilized, and both on diets . . .

Millie: Maggie's funny Maggie: I am that. I am that. And nobody knows better than meself how funny. When the good Lord thought me up He said, "I'll make her nothin' to look at but she'll be good to listen to." Come away with you now an' listen some more.

I remember stating that humour was the poor cousin of wit and at best it was the whetstone on which wit sharpened itself – that one laughs at humour but savours wit.

Suz, carrying Savich's plate, the scrambled eggs steaming, stopped to stare after Rachael. 'Isn't this par for the course--a sexy guy with two girls--I'll just bet the little readhead here threatened to whomp the blonde with that cute braid, right?' 'You're very observant, Suz,' Savich said. Sherlock rolled her eyes.

He'd laughed? He couldn't remember. Ramsay had probably been riding the morphine express to LaLa land and heard a nurse say something funny, or not funny at all, it wouldn't matter.

He's got a big stomach, Uncle Dillon," Sam said as he settled in on his father's lap. "I know, Sam," Katie said. "His belly nearly fills up the photo we've got out there.

A woman has to be intelligent, have charm, a sense of humor, and be kind. It's the same qualities I require from a man.

And have your mother put my head on a stake? Do you have any notion what that would do to my handsome good looks?

It kind of struck me how great it would be to go out with a guy that size. And if you, you know, got tired of dating him, you could always use him as a house or something.