Quotes About Humor

They say the seeds of what we will do are all in us, but it always seemed to me that in those who make jokes in life the seeds are covered with better soil and with a higher grade of manure.

Bill was buying shoe-shines for Mike. Bootblacks opened the street door and each one Bill called over and started to work on Mike. This is the eleventh time my boots have been polished, Mike said. I say, Bill is an ass.

A kidder gets to be an awful thing around a camp if his stuff goes sort of sour.

No horse named Morbid ever won a race.

Spotted Fawn left a legacy as well. She taught me, and many others, that it's not enough to plan and execute a project intellectually. If a project is to grow and prosper, it needs to be rooted in the spirit, in the body, in the community, as well as in the mind. And in her final months of life, Spotted Fawn bore her adversity with dignity and good humor. She was neither a whiner nor a complainer.

As the adage says: "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

I didn't answer. Mr. Dowater had a reputation for deadpan humor, a humor that was strangely similar to the low-level, sarcastic sniper fire offered by the school's underbleacher population of stoners and class-cutters. It didn't really pay to engage it. After

My father did not bring it up, but of course I knew that he had another reason to worry about my decision to write. Though he was a reader, he was not a lover of fiction, because fiction is not true, and for that flaw it was forever inferior to fact. If reading fiction was a waste of time, so was the writing of it. Why is it, I wonder, that humor didn't count? Wodehouse, for one, whom both of us loved, was a flawless fiction writer.

I can't think I had much of a sense of humor as long as I remained the only child. When my brother Edward came along we both became comics, making each other laugh.

Another syllogism. All cats die. Socrates is dead. Therefore Socrates is a cat.

I'm looking for a monophysite priest to marry our maid.

MR. SMITH: Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. [Silence.] MR. MARTIN: Don't you feel well? [Silence.] MRS. SMITH: No, he's wet his pants. [Silence.] MRS. MARTIN: Oh, sir, at your age, you shouldn't. [Silence.] MR. SMITH: The heart is ageless. [Silence.]

El lógico (al Señor anciano): Aquí tiene un silogismo ejemplar. El gato tiene cuatro patas. Isidoro y Fricot tienen cada uno cuatro patas. Por lo tanto Isidoro y Fricot son gatos. El señor anciano (al Lógico): Mi perro también tiene cuatro patas. El lógico (al Señor anciano): Entonces es un gato.

Si no se comprende la utilidad de lo inútil, la inutilidad de lo útil, no se comprende el arte. Y un país en donde no se comprende el arte es un país de esclavos o de robots, un país de gente desdichada, de gente que no ríe ni sonríe, un país sin espíritu; donde no hay humorismo, donde no hay risa, hay cólera y odio.

Un país en donde no se comprende el arte es un país de esclavos o de robots, un país de gente desdichada, de gente que no ríe ni sonríe, un país sin espíritu; donde no hay humorismo, donde no hay risa, hay cólera y odio.

Mon oncle, que Dieu ait son âme, était l'ivrogne officiel du village. Il s'y engageait en chancelant. Il criait : « Mon Dieu, je vous en prie, laissez-moi passer, je ne boirai plus jamais. » Mais, quand il arrivait sur l'autre rive, il dansait, il chantait, il criait : « Je boirai encore. Ah, ah, ah! »

Can I interest you in a battery-operated vagina?

I'll be fine. My fear will keep me warm." She laughed. I think it was the first time I'd heard her laugh, and I looked at her in surprise. "You're funny," she said. "Oh yeah, I'm a laughing riot.

Even the lowest form of humor—maybe especially the lowest, the most basic form—suggests that we were intended to be something higher than ourselves.

But the three hundred and sixty-five authors who try to write new fairy tales are very tiresome. They always begin with a little boy or girl who goes out and meets the fairies of polyanthuses and gardenias and apple blossoms: 'Flowers and fruits, and other winged things.' These fairies try to be funny, and fail; or they try to preach, and succeed.

Oh, by the way, Chuck, I spilled tea on your bongos.

Our Father which art in Hendon Harrow be thy name Thy Kingston come, Thy Wimbledon, In Erith as it is in Hendon. Give us this day our Leatherhead And forgive us our bypasses As we forgive those who bypass against us. Lead us not into Thames Ditton But deliver us from Ewell For thine is the Kingston, the Purley and Crawley For Esher and Esher, Crouch End.791

She herself replied to one of her oldest friends who had written asking how to address her: "I really don't know! It might be anything—you might try 'All Hail Duchess,' that is an Alice in Wonderland sort of Duchess, or just 'Greetings' or 'What Ho, Duchess' or 'Say, Dutch'—in fact you can please yourself."28

My goals at these things usually extended no further than making at least one moderately clever comment and trying not to spill anything on my shirt.