Quotes About Laughter

Bobby laughed. Not aloud. He would never laugh in his best friend's face when he went into overprotective brother mode. But inside of his own head, he was rolling on the floor in hysterics.

Oh, the fun we two have together.

Beetee is still messing round the tree, doing I don't know what. At one point he snaps off a sliver of bark, joins us, and throws it against the force field. It bounces back and lands on the ground, glowing. In a few moments it returns to its original color. "Well, that explains a lot," says Beetee. I look at Peeta and can't help biting my lip to keep from laughing since it explains absolutely nothing to anyone but Beetee.

I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. "Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and give me a small "Quack." "Quack yourself," I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

Lean down a minute first," he says. "Need to tell you something." I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it." I jerk my head back but end up laughing. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind.

What did Finnick Odair want?" he asks. I turn and put my lips close to Peeta's and drop my eyelids in imitation of Finnick. "He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets," I say in my best seductive voice. Peeta laughs. "Ugh. Not really." "Really," I say. "I'll tell you more when my skin stops crawling.

People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!" There's dead silence on the set. It goes on. And on. Finally, the intercom crackles and Haymitch's acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, "And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.

For a moment he laughed, forgetting where they were, how depressing the backdrop. For a moment there was just her smile, the musical cadence of her voice, and the hint of flirtation. Then the world exploded.

We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared

Smiling is mostly about smiling more.

Yes, she laid down her life taunting her tribute with a sandwich, thought Coriolanus. Maybe her gravestone could read, "Casualty of cheap laughs.

Not everyone is treated with such respect. But whenever my father sang, all the birds in the area would fall silent and listen. His voice was beautiful, high and clear and so filled with life it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

She shook her head in disbelief and laughed. "Okay, okay, everybody. This is . . . this is maybe the best night of my life.

I can't help laughing, really laughing, for the first time in months. Peeta just shakes his head like I've lost my mind - and maybe I have, a little.

Sejanus. "My friend, your life has just begun!" And then Coriolanus was laughing; they both were. "So this isn't our ruin?" "I'd call it our salvation.

Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh.

I can't help laughing because it's funny,

So, you're supposed to give us advice," I say to Haymitch. "Here's some advice. Stay alive," says Haymitch, and then bursts out laughing.

Laughter changes to screams, blood stains pastel stones, real smoke darkens the special effect stuff made for television.

Tenemos que bromear sobre el tema, porque la alternativa es morirse de miedo.

Maybe her gravestone could read, "Casualty of cheap laughs.

I'm also giggling, which I think I've done maybe never in my lifetime.

Well, don't step on me." I jump back. His voice was right under my feet. Still there's nothing. Then his eyes open, unmistakably blue in the brown mud and green leaves. I gasp and am rewarded with a hint of white teeth as he laughs. It's the final word in camouflage. Forget chucking weights around. Peeta should have gone into his private session with the Gamemakers and painted himself into a tree. Or a boulder. Or a muddy bank full of weeds.

As we ride the elevator, Gale finally says, "You're still angry." "And you're still not sorry," I reply. "I still stand by what I said. Do you want me to lie about it?" he asks. "No, I want you to rethink it and come up with the right opinion," I tell him. But this just makes him laugh. I have to let it go. There's no point in trying to dictate what Gale thinks. Which, if I'm honest, is one reason I trust him.