Quotes About Laughter

Mama learned to laugh with them, before they could laugh at her, and to do it so well no one could be sure what she really thought or felt.

I never expect anything,' said Marthe. 'It provides a level, low-pitched existence with no disappointments.' 'I'm all for a level, low-pitched existence,' said Philippa. 'And when you see your way back to one, for heaven's sake don't forget to tell me.' At which Marthe, surprisingly, laughed aloud.

I'm fairly bursting tae ken how ye guessed I spoke Scots?' Lymond looked up. Superficial pain, withstood or ignored for quite a long time, had made his eyes heavy, but they were brimming with laughter. 'Well, God,' he said. 'In the water, you were roaring your head off at a bloody bull elephant called Hughie.

And, echoing Jerott, 'So why in hell have you come?' Philippa's gaze, bright and owlish and obstinate, held his to the end. 'To look after the baby,' she answered. And disconcertingly, after a second's blank pause, Francis Crawford flung back his damp head and laughed.

And that was when she realized that laughter, which they had lost, had come back to them, and they were whole again.

He was not a figment of daydream or of fantasy. He was the quick-witted man who had raced with her; the man whose strong wrists had pulled her from trouble; whose laughter recognized, more than his own, her buffoonery; whose voice had whispered, sung, exclaimed or cursed, with equal felicity, carefree as birdsong on top of their striving. Whose essence, stripped by necessity was, it now seemed, warm and joyous and of great generosity.

Are you by any chance …' said Lymond. '… baiting you?' Philippa said. 'Only when you are inclined to be magisterial.' 'Oh, good God,' Lymond said. 'Kate must be out of her mind.' 'And thank heaven you aren't my father?' said Philippa. 'Roughly,' said Lymond, and began to laugh, and then stopped.

Scott, deaf and enchanted in the gallery, and the whole row of pretty heads at his side saw the concerted rush on Lymond: his assailants downed him without malice and eighteen stones of Molly planted themselves on his chest. "A throw!" said Molly, and Lymond, half buried, gave a choked whoop of laughter and raised a defeated hand in signal to Tammas.

Blaspheme if you must,' said Blyth wearily. 'You'll get your wages all right. You'll survive.' 'I'm not going to die of laughing at any rate,' said Lymond, and Blyth nearly lost his temper again.

Lymond is back." It was known soon after the Sea-Catte reached Scotland from Campvere with an illicit cargo and a man she should not have carried. "Lymond is in Scotland." It was said by busy men preparing for war against England, with contempt, with disgust; with a side-slipping look at one of their number. "I hear the Lord Culter's young brother is back." Only sometimes a woman's voice would say it with a different note, and then laugh a little.

For carnal pleasure?' she said, and laughed wildly. 'Like unto Uranus and Gaea? It hadn't occurred to me. On the other hand, it is a gift of Francis's to fill his house with sons bred in incest.

She reflected she must be completely besotted with Peter, if his laughter could hallow an aspidistra.

Four be the things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, or a foe. Four be the things I'd been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt. Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient Champagne. Three be the things I shall have till I die: Laughter and hope, and a sock in the eye.

Ford Prefect suppressed a little giggle of evil satisfaction, realized that he had no reason to suppress it, and laughed out loud, a wicked laugh.

He sniggered. He didn't like to think of himself as the sort of person who giggled or sniggered, but he had to admit that he had been giggling and sniggering almost continuously for well over half an hour now.

But nowadays everybody's a comedian, even the weather girls and continuity announcers. We laugh at everything. Not intelligently anymore, not with sudden shock, astonishment, or revelation, just relentlessly and meaninglessly. No more rain showers in the desert, just mud and drizzle everywhere, occasionally illuminated by the flash of paparazzi.

He giggled and sniggered. He would have laughed out loud but he didn't have the room.

The words seem oddly dated, don't they? It all sounds rather naïve and sentimental to be talking about children laughing and dancing and singing together when we all know perfectly well that what children do in real life is snarl and take drugs.

But nowadays everybody's a comedian, even the weather girls and continuity announcers. We laugh at everything. Not intelligently anymore, not with sudden shock, astonishment, or revelation, just relentlessly and meaninglessly. No more rain showers in the desert, just mud and drizzle everywhere, occasionally illuminated by the flash of paparazzi.

Her laughter seemed to discharge something in the atmosphere. From somewhere at the back of the crowd a single voice started to sing a tune that would have enabled Paul McCartney, had he written it, to buy the world.

And as Coldmoon closed the door behind him, he could still hear the faint sound of Pendergast's laughter—dulcet, melodious, yet infinitely sad—as he maintained his sanity by skipping from one tiny sliver of time to another, between the beat of a hummingbird's wings.

Myriad laughter of the ocean waves.

He laughs best who laughs at the end.

In the midst of tragedy we start the comedy.