Quotes About Humor

Mr. Anderson:Well, maybe we all should call it a night. Congrats to the happy couples. Will there be wedding bells soon? SnowGirl:Definitely. I mean, if you help a guy kill a dwarf, he should marry you.

Beside me, Philippe and Meg hold hands. He murmurs something that sounds like, "my dear leetle mongoose." I wish he'd turn back into a frog and hop away.

Having screwed around the last hour trying to decide whether to write in the style of Isaac Asimov (that version featured Caitlin as a Venusian chick with one eye and three breasts) or Dr. Seuss ("I am Nick/Nick is sick/Nick tells Debbie to…" well, you get the idea)

Playboy: Why are you smiling? Thompson: Am I smiling? Yeah, I guess I am…well, it's fun to lose it sometimes.

A wise man once said, don't die, it's not as fun as it seems

Only Irish coffee provides in a single glass all four essential food groups: alcohol, caffeine, sugar, and fat.

I will not eat anything that walks, runs, skips, hops or crawls. God knows that I've crawled on occasion, and I'm glad that no one ate me.

In keeping with the personal tone, Jones wanted to call the book From Julia's Kitchen, but the author demurred: "People won't know who 'Julia' is," she said. "Of course they will!" the editor retorted, trying not to laugh. In the end, they opted for the more formal From Julia Child's Kitchen.

Ha! I like the world, kid. I like its sense of humour. I like the way it gets its own back on the know-it-alls and the stuck-ups and the well-meaners.

Nice," I tell him. "So you literally steal candy from babies.

My wife Elizabeth and I started The Really Terrible Orchestra for people like us who are pretty hopeless musicians who would like to play in an orchestra. It has been a great success. We give performances we've become the most famous bad orchestra in the world.

I get asked, 'How can you have such failures in your films?' Well, what else is life about? There's some sense of constant failure in something. Humor gives you a distance from it.

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

Satire's my weapon, but I'm too discreetTo run amuck, and tilt at all I meet.

Such labored nothings, in so strange a style,Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile.

She who ne'er answers till a husband cools,Or, if she rules him, never shows she rules;Charms by accepting, by submitting, sways,Yet has her humor most, when she obeys.

Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air,Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair.

Authors are partial to their wit

I am his Highness' dog at Kew; Pray tell me sir, whose dog are you?

Hey." Levet gave a sharp flap of his wings. "It is supposed to be farts before tarts." "What the -" Santiago made a sound of disgust. "Oh, for god's sake, it's bros before hos.

I am not stunted. I am vertically challenged. - Levet

Talk to the tail, vamp," he growled.

Forget men, I want to marry my MacBook. It's dependable, reliable and you can even go shopping with it.

I never stopped joking around long enough to realize you weren't laughing anymore.