Quotes About Humor

Well, ha-jolly-ha to YOU, young Stiffie-- with knobs on!

I will be your wife, Bertie.' There didn't seem much to say to this except 'Oh, thanks.

One of the first lessons life teaches us is that on these occasions of back-chat between the delicately-natured, a man should retire into the offing, curl up in a ball, and imitate the prudent tactics of the opossum, which, when danger is in the air, pretends to be dead, frequently going to the length of hanging out crêpe and instructing its friends to gather round and say what a pity it all is.

I said, 'Don't talk rot, Old Tom Travers. I am not accustomed to talk rot, he said. Then, for a beginner, I said, you do it dashed well.

He was always inclined to read a fictitious sombreness into things when the shadows began to creep over the world and it was still too early for a cocktail.

Boko looked at me, and raised his eyebrows. I looked at Boko, and raised my eyebrows. Nobby looked at us both, and raised her eyebrows. Then we looked at Stilton, and all raised our eyebrows. It was one of those big eyebrow-raising mornings.

Watching you at work, I was reminded of the young lady of Natchez, whose clothes were all tatters and patches. In alluding to which, she would say, Well, Ah itch, and wherever ah itches, Ah scratches.

They're soul mates. She has about as much brain as a retarded billiards ball, and he approximately the same.

anyone looking at you would write you off as a brainless nincompoop with about as much intelligence as a dead rabbit.

I may be wronging her, but I have an idea that she's the sort of girl who would want a fellow to carve out a career and what not. I know I've heard her speak favourably of Napoleon. So what with one thing and another the jolly old frenzy sort of petered out, and now we're just pals. I think she's a topper, and she thinks me next door to a looney, so everything's nice and matey.

Do you realise that about two hundred of Twing's heftiest are waiting for you outside to chuck you into the pond? No! Absolutely! For a moment the poor chap seemed crushed. But only for a moment. There has always been something of the good old English bulldog breed about Bingo. A strange, sweet smile flickered for an instant over his face. It's all right, he said. I can sneak out through the cellar and climb over the wall at the back. They can't intimidate me!

I knew a chap who bumped his leg, and it turned black and had to be cut off at the knee.' 'You do seem to mix with the most extraordinary people.

there occurred to me the simple epitaph which, when I am no more, I intend to have inscribed on my tombstone. It was this: "He was a man who acted from the best motives. There is one born every minute.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again--girls are rummy. Old Pop Kipling never said a truer word than when he made that crack about the f. of the s. being more d. than the m.

Lord Emsworth could conceive of no way in which Freddie could be of value to a dog-biscuit firm, except possibly as a taster.

Bertie, it is imperative that you marry. But, dash it all... Yes! You should be breeding children to... No, really, I say, please! I said, blushing richly. Aunt Agatha belongs to two or three of these women's clubs, and she keeps forgetting she isn't in the smoking-room.

What ho!" I said. "What ho!" said Motty. "What ho! What ho!" "What ho! What ho! What ho!" After that it seemed rather difficult to go on with the conversation.

But dragons are one thing and aunts are another.

Of course I think so. Have you forgotten what I told you the other day?' 'Yes,' said Lord Emsworth. He always forgot what people told him the other day.

Hear him now as he toils. He has a long garden-implement in his hand, and he is sending up the death-rate in slug circles with a devastating rapidity.             Ta-ra-ra boom-de-ay              Ta-ra-ra BOOM— And the boom is a death-knell. As it rings softly out on the pleasant spring air, another stout slug has made the Great Change.

Yes, Jeeves? The man had materialized on the carpet. Absolutely noiseless, as usual. A note for you, sir. A note for me, Jeeves? A note for you, sir. From whom, Jeeves? From Miss Bassett, sir. From whom, Jeeves? From Miss Bassett, sir. From Miss Bassett, Jeeves? From Miss Bassett, sir. At this point, Aunt Dahlia begged us for heaven's sake to cut out the cross-talk vaudeville stuff. Always willing to oblige, I dismissed Jeeves with a nod, and he flickered for a moment and was gone.

It is madness to come to country houses without one's bottle of Mickey Finns.

It was all Mrs. Waddington could do to refrain from hurling a bust of Edgar Allan Poe at her head.

No burglar wastes his time burgling authors.