Humorous Masonic Quotes

since i will not send this, i also feel it is my duty to inform you that almost six months on I think I still love you and that makes me sad becaue love shouldn’t feel this way. is like getting kicked in the stomach every time i think of you and it makes me want to roll my face across this keyboardbiu;///ubEWdcfhugiov’byhi;.//////-=‘-0i9juh8ygtfdcsaazs34defg7uefg7u8hi9o0p8hi9o0p-[[09ju8dcsaazs34d9o0p-[[09.

I've barely said five words to you. What indication could you possibly have that I am a Yankee?" "Well, we could start with the words 'what indication.' Someone from south of the Mason-Dixon would have said, 'Who the hell are you calling a Yankee?' Then we would have fought.

Why did I even think that girl would help? So…I need her. Why?! Why her? What is it that makes her so different, so calming, so…So, Goddamn MINE! - Christopher Mason

Mia, I told you how I feel. I'm an asshole and I don't say or show how I feel very often, so how about you just fucking enjoy it." -Christopher Mason

Mason, E, 2nd LT: I take this as a declaration of war. Presuming they don't line me up against a bulkhead and shoot me after my court martial tomorrow, I will be making sweet, sweet love to your sister by the week's end. This I solemnly vow McNulty, J, Sgt: ezra don't joke about my sister I ****ing warned you Mason, E, 2nd LT: sweet McNulty, J, Sgt: chum Mason, E, 2nd LT: sweet McNulty, J, Sgt: mason Mason, E, 2nd LT: lurrrrrrve

Ever heard of knocking, asshole?" I spat, not bothering to look at him. "Ever heard of locking the door, whore?" Turning, I glared at him and slammed the door in his face, locking it. Smirking, he yanked the door back open. "Oh I guess I forgot to mention that the lock is broken." - Christopher Mason & Mia Ryder

And this is the library,” Mrs. Simcosky said, leading Beth into a generous room with a fire flickering in a river rock fireplace. “Or, as Mason liked to call it, my love den.” She drifted to one of the floor to ceiling book shelves and trailed her fingers down a bevy of colorful spines. “He used to call my books ‘the other men’.

B looked down the shaft, at a metal ladder and darkness beyond. "Me first?" Of course. You're the apprentice, so you always go first into the unknown. If anyone's going to be eaten by a grue, it should be you." Tough job. But at least the hours are terrible.

Well, I don’t know what to do first. I mean, should I take the piss out of you”—he points at me—“for the TV interview? Or you”—he points at James—“for the fan mail?

Nev tossed his pen down. “Fine. Here goes: Ren and Cals lives may be torrid for the young ones in Vail are quite horrid Bine and Cos aren’t too frail Dax and Fey never pale while Ansel and Bryn might get sordid Bryn spit Diet Coke all over the table. Mason and Ansel clapped. I was too dumbfounded to react. This is qhat quiet Nev does in his spare time? “‘Bine’?” Sabine frowned while Cosette mopped up the soda that flowed to their end of the table. “Since when am I ‘Bine’? And we never call Cosette ‘Cos.’” “It’s about cadence,” Nev said. “Sorry. I said it wasn’t very good.” “Why aren’t you and Mason in it?” Ansel asked. “Oh, he has another one about us.” Mason wiggled his eyebrows.

He threw caution to the wind. Caution was not too fond of the wind and would later seek revenge on him for this treacherous debauchery.

...so claim'd are the Surveyors in their contra-solar Return by Might-it-bes, and If-it-weres, - not to mention What-was-thats.

While he’d been tentatively considering a possible romantic relationship with her, she’d fallen in love with him. He could barely speak. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Mason snorted. “Yeah, that’s right. Do you like Maira, check yes or no. Come on. You’re almost thirty, you’re old enough to go after what you want.

The Crusaders lead to the Knights Templar; the Knights Templar lead to the Masons; and the Masons lead to the Shriners, a secret society that controls world government, toys with our banking system, and single-handedly keeps the fez industry afloat.

Get your head out of your ass, you already reek of hypocrisy, so why add notes to the fragrance?

The groomer wasn’t provided any dental care or skin care and that’s the truth. Just ask his dentdermatautologist, he’ll tell you.

That was the root of the giant misunderstanding that was us getting married: the fact that he thought I was so uninhibited, fun, a skinny person interested in fashion, an attender of magazine parties, and I thought he had a sense of humor and didn’t take immense amounts of cocaine.

She doesn’t exactly know why kids don’t like her. She’s good-looking enough. She has a sense of humor. She’s not dumb. She guesses it’s because they can sense how much she needs them. They are like kids in a circle holding sticks, picking on the weak thing. It is in people, to be entertained by cruelty.

It is a three-piece affair, everything quilted, long jacket, waistcoat, and trousers, which have Feet at the ends of them, all in striped silk, a double stripe of some acidick Rose upon Celadon for the Trousers and Waistcoat, and for the Jacket, whose hem touches the floor when, as now, he is seated, a single stripe of teal-blue upon the same color, which is also that of the Revers. . . . It is usually not wise to discuss matters of costume with people who dress like this, -- politics or religion being far safer topicks.

“Maurency seems to be undergoing a remarkable and somewhat undesirable transformation.” “What?” “He’s changed hair color, put on some muscle and now seems to be cracking skulls rather than saying his prayers.” Mason rose and rounded the table. “In short, it looks like Linnet’s ideal hero might be turning into you.” [...] “He looks improved, but I still don’t like him.” “He’s you, you fool,” responded Oswald scathingly.

like a blustered Bostonian sheep blubbering about being sheared at the ba ba

The hummingbird realized that this was a psychological tightrope that he had to navigate carefully, so he did it sideways because this was the only way he could move when perched

He touched the wall and the paint was cold so it probably needed another coat.

Many items the skunk had were of the highest quality including bathroom vanities and hand and paw washing areas constructed by Finland’s well-known designer, Helsinki.

Even the perfume-free fragrance in your delightful bubble bath you were taking was from one of my first collections, Eau de Water

which is why mimes are rarely invited to birthday parties, as the gifts they gave were usually invisible boxes.

new performance ongoing where pages of a dictionary are ripped out and thrown on the stage floor, it’s a play on words with the title of the show being ‘Pun’.

Claudette looked to the ground like an embarrassed sheep who had been informed that it was frequently used as a description for timidity.

I’d say he’s about 5’12,” Sebastian said. “That’s 6’,” Whisky said. “Yeah, same thing.

outside the watchmaker shop. It was sandwiched between a deli and a bakery and only time would tell if a condiment store would strap on in its place.

I’d normally spare you the details, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of writing a story.

You know teenage boys, you own one-Mason Lerner

And to make matters worse, the two deer shining the lanterns inside the ambulance’s headlights were tired and explained through an intercom system that would not be working again until the morning.

Neither task appealed to a man of his temperament. One required action and the other thought. Both were anathematical to Constable Mason. His working life had been centered around the skillful ‘referral to higher authority’ of anything involving any effort.

Sifting with a sifter, artifacts after artifacts after artifiction that was ruled out as planted by some teenagers that were trying to pepper the site with pepper shakers that were from millennia ago, failing to take into account that those items were created less than 200 years ago.

Davey Boy's Dead was given a new lease on life when doctors transplanted the Dynamite Kidney into his body. That new lease on life came to a sudden and rather hilarious end when the Dynamite Kidney exploded and tore a hole in Davey Boy's side. - The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Zombies

The mummy felt betrayed, like when a spouse agrees on a movie you decided to watch only to put on a different movie as you go to the bathroom, having to sit through the whole movie and not argue about it because it’s not worth fighting over, just boiling up inside and remembering it for later when they want their coffee with half-and-half, knowing that you put 2-percent milk in there and they won’t know, but you will.

You know, I have met Alexis before.” For the barest moment, a spark struck inside him. “I tried to kiss her once.” From joy to ferocious glare, the transformation was absolute. “Did you just tell me you tried to kiss my mate?” “Tried, but didn’t succeed.” For a moment, he wanted to smile. It was such an alien sensation, he had to touch his face to see if his mouth moved. “Since you failed, I’ll let you live.” Mason’s good humor returned. “Three days, it’s all I can give you.

Where's Mason?” “Planting explosives.” Zinio did a double take. “You actually handed that man explosives?” “Damn it, Zinio. Let other people have some fun.” The explosion in the distance was followed by Mason yelling, “Yahoo!” Zinio and Delaney stared speechless as Mason flew by in the adjoining tunnel, riding the concussion wave of the blast. Finally, Zinio stomped after him. He peeled him off the floor in the adjoining tunnel. “You having fun yet?” “Hell yeah!” “Wanna go again?” “Hell yeah I wanta go again!” A short while later, Zinio watched Mason fly by on a concussion wave from the latest explosion, as Mason shouted, “Hot Diggity!” Zinio made his way over to the somewhat more charcoaled Mason. “You had enough yet?” Mason nodded shakily. “Good—because it'd be nice if we actually put a hole in the fricking wall! That is the object of this little exercise.

Whenever Elliot Norther’s wife was nervous she baked. With the murder of Harriet Mason, her husband’s close colleague at the Faculty, she had been unable to resist a couple of Victoria sponges. During the frenzied press speculation about the identity of the murderer, a Dundee cake had appeared, followed swiftly by a Battenberg and a Lemon Drizzle. Since news of the Wildencrust murder broke, the kitchen, dining room and study had come to resemble the storerooms of an industrial bakery, every surface heaving with the weight of sponge and cream. Yesterday, having at last been overwhelmed by the fear and rumour that swept the town, she had taken herself off to her mother’s house in Hampstead, leaving her husband to soldier on alone. When he had last seen his wife, Elliot Norther noticed that she had been putting the finishing touches to an impressive, triple-tiered wedding cake, beating a batch of royal icing into a sickly paste.

Grabbing my hair and pulling it to the point my skull throbs, I rock back and forth while insanity threatens to destroy my mind completely. Father finally did what Lachlan started. Destroyed my spirit. The angel is gone. The monster has come and killed her. Lachlan Sipping his whiskey, Shon gazes with a bored expression at the one-way mirror as Arson lights the match, grazing the skin of his victim with it as the man convulses in fear. “Show off,” he mutters, and on instinct, I slap the back of his head. He rubs it, spilling the drink. “The fuck? We are wasting time, Lachlan. Tell him to speed up. You know if you let him, he can play for hours.” All in good time, we don’t need just a name. He is saving him for a different kind of information that we write down as Sociopath types furiously on his computer, searching for the location and everything else using FBI databases. “Bingo!” Sociopath mutters, picking up the laptop and showing the screen to me. “It’s seven hours away from New York, in a deserted location in the woods. The land belongs to some guy who is presumed dead and the man accrued the right to build shelters for abused women. They actually live there as a place of new hope or something.” Indeed, the center is advertised as such and has a bunch of stupid reviews about it. Even the approval of a social worker, but then it doesn’t surprise me. Pastor knows how to be convincing. “Kids,” I mutter, fisting my hands. “Most of them probably have kids. He continues to do his fucked-up shit.” And all these years, he has been under my radar. I throw the chair and it bounces off the wall, but no one says anything as they feel the same. “Shon, order a plane. Jaxon—” “Yeah, my brothers will be there with us. But listen, the FBI—” he starts, and I nod. He takes a beat and quickly sends a message to someone on his phone while I bark into the microphone. “Arson, enough with the bullshit. Kill him already.” He is of no use to us anyway. Arson looks at the wall and shrugs. Then pours gas on his victim and lights up the match simultaneously, stepping aside as the man screams and thrashes on the chair, and the smell of burning flesh can be sensed even here. Arson jogs to a hose, splashing water over him. The room is designed security wise for this kind of torture, since fire is one of the first things I taught. After all, I’d learned the hard way how to fight with it. “On the plane, we can adjust the plan. Let’s get moving.” They spring into action as I go to my room to get a specific folder to give to Levi before I go, when Sociopath’s hand stops me, bumping my shoulder. “Is this a suicide mission for you?” he asks, and I smile, although it lacks any humor. My friend knows everything. Instead of answering his question, I grip his shoulder tight, and confide, “Valencia is entrusted to you.” We both know that if I want to destroy Pastor, I have to die with him. This revenge has been twenty-three years in the making, and I never envisioned a different future. This path always leads to death one way or another, and the only reason I valued my life was because I had to kill him. Valencia will be forever free from the evils that destroyed her life. I’ll make sure of it. Once upon a time, there was an angel. Who made the monster’s heart bleed.

They say opposites attract. Nobody ever said opposites live happily ever after.

Your problem is a serious lack of imagination. You can’t imagine being different than you are.

You know what they say,' Suz had texted. 'Once you go geek, you never go back.

That reminds me,” he said, pausing. “There’s a jar in my office marked ‘Bail.’ If you don’t hear from me by tonight, just bring it down to the Mason street Station, would you? I’m usually in the first or second cell.

In college, I wanted to be Perry Mason, the hottest defense lawyer around. Then I realized that defense lawyers represented the scum of the earth, and most of their clients were guilty. Kinda blew the image for me. In my sophomore year, I took a journalism course and was hooked. I discovered investigative reporting, and soon realized I could be judge, jury, and prosecutor. So who needed to be a lawyer

I mean, listen. They practiced a crippling soul addiction to stay flawless.” Mason pointed out and then observed his forehead and shifted his jaw to each side. “They were such victims. In the end, they wrinkled away no matter how much money they threw in.” This time, it was Valis who started laughing. “You gotta be kiddin’ me, are you flattering yourself? You see them as victims of vanity. So much for your own self-awareness.” He joked. Mason lifted his eyes and glanced at him through the stained mirror. “What do you mean?” “In today’s standard, you’re the equivalent of someone laminated like a business card.

He had been thrown into the dungeon after refusing to accept that ‘bridegroom’ was no longer an acceptable term to call a groom. Needless to say, he had been there quite a long time.

But then the room became sullen, like a community member meeting for sheep that are hearing a ruling about to be declared and are asked to speak now or forever hold their fleece.

But before the man could reach the door, there was a knock, like one that happens to precipitate a courtship meeting for two punctuation marks that are going out to dinner and one really doesn’t like the restaurant, but goes anyway because they’re a comma dating.

Breathe in and breathe out for me in even 1-2 counts,' the doctor instructed Herman. Herman did as he was told even though one is an odd number.

After all, what was school for, but to strain your eyes in order to decipher what a doctor had said, which was a question you should especially ask if the prescriptions were from an optometrist that questioned the legitimacy of his teachings.

but only after our own respective prides slowly melted away, like a lion family ice sculpture being left near those restaurant heaters that a maître d’ was going to have to blame a waiter for so she could keep her job and he could lose his as payback for him dumping her for the ice sculptor.

the designer music shop that sold status cymbals.

The mule took out two small jars, one of a white gooey texture and another of a blueish red liquid that wasn’t purple because the mule had skipped art class when he was younger

The wolves were now permanently mute out of almost three week long perpetual fear of the penguin, and this was agreeable to the penguin, who was much pleased, contrary to the redundancy of the latter part of this sentence where he certainly was not pleased.

He had been shuffled out so quickly he didn’t even realize what he was wearing, like a King of Spades who wanted to file a complaint to the playing card company manufacturer for not drawing him a garden tool like he specifically asked for.

yet one animal food critic in particular commented that his dish had a certain ‘je ne sais’, but all that was missing was the ‘quoi’.

like a person who musts up the courage to take part in a tomahawk throwing competition only for their shoulder to lock into place, straining a vein and looking like you’re posing for a portrait that would probably look even more badass if you had signed up to be the nude model in an art class which takes a lot of courage unless you’re already vain.

as they marched out on their way to band practice to get fitted for new hats to hide foam rollers in, as the athletic director was very against the band members having smooth fascia and demanded they have sore muscles while the football team played.

like someone who obsessively collects paintings of hoarders

I know you are, and I know you don’t even have to do what you’ve been doing. So thank you, but could you just humor me, and help me pick out a color? Please?” “Sure,” he said softly, and didn’t bother standing as he crawled over to the mattress. His brow drew together as he studied the different colors, and picked them up individually, before picking up two at a time and setting one aside. I laughed softly and raised my hands in surrender when he glared at me. “This one.” He dropped the electric blue polish in my lap and sat back but stayed close to the mattress. “You’re trying to turn me into a girl,” he grumbled and ran his hands through his shaggy hair. “Um, not? You just have to put up with me because you signed up for the job of taking care of me. Lucky you.” He grunted and watched as I started with my toes first, and then made my way to my fingernails. “You having fun watching me?” “I wouldn’t say fun is the right word, but it’s something to do. And your concentration face is cute.” Rolling my eyes, I let the cute slide, even though I would have normally punched Mason’s or Kash’s arm if they had called anything I did cute. Not now, though. I’d take the cute title and wear it proudly if it meant being near them. Funny

We can have this mutually beneficial agreement; we’ll call it a squid-pro-quo. If you do change your mind and are interested, meat me tomorrow at Pooler’s Jeweler’s in town, around 1:00 pm.' The black bear thanked the hammerhead for his time, waved goodbye, and walked off, leaving the hammerhead shark before he could ask any more questions, such as whether the black bear used the word 'meat' for 'meet' out of a jovial tease to annoy him or a precursor for nagging him repeatedly over the course of their job together.

The following morning, Wilhelmina awoke to a lone lily pad moaning after escaping from an exquisite Monet painting piece that was hosting some shades of watercolor chips that were a century and half-oldish that subbed as a dish for artsy gourmet-eating tadpoles that had both a yearning for the foggy past and longing for their froggy future.

Seth sat there watching a dumb reality show about storage lockers? Bachelors? Bachelors in storage lockers? Either way, it was something Mason had zero interest in, so they’d retreated to their room.

An octopus, who holds the record for defense in a football game – ten tackles

He swam past the prawn broker shop which sold used fish

so I was in desperate need to bever which is a verb for when you consume a beverage. And if you say it isn’t and I agree with you, then I simply ask the question why 'bever' isn’t a word. 'Feed' is a word. You feed on food, but you don’t bever a beverage? That won’t do, so I must make it do, and now it has been done.

as her marriage was on the rocks and thin ice simultaneously, which surprisingly the latter is not verbiage for alcohol lingo, unlike the former, which is.

Glancing around for his friends eenie, meenie, miney, and mo, they were nowhere to be found and he was left stranded with this lane picking dilemma, so he grimaced and picked the first lane offered.

Don’t judge a book by its cover because the criminal justice system is already overcrowded as it is.

even that store with a counter-productive name that must have been created by a linguist, called ‘Tattalso parlor’ in lieu of the much more conventional ‘Tattoo’.

one man asked his friend, 'So how is her figure?', to which the reply was, 'Ballpark'.

this Mime here said to the others 'I wouldn’t talk if I were you' before their exam.

They also spent time relaying ancestors’ stories including the Stone Age Kentucky Derby, where saber tooth tigers raced and the haughty humans watched and drank their flint juleps.

much like a when a bullfighter comes home he struts through the matadoor

which was so easy a staples button could do it

or like a piece from the baroque period which is before things were fixed

a time ago when Timbuktu was only Timbuk 1

so the bartender knew he would be paid handsomely. Not beautifully, but handsomely as there is a subtle distinction and one all pretty boys need to hear.

but the Mime protested without talking and that were the kind of activists the racist misogynist homophobic xenophobic non-claustrophobic because he worked in a nightclub owner preferred as he agreed everyone had a voice as long as they didn’t speak with it.

She didn’t mean anything by it,' the markhor explained like how racism is perpetuated and exonerated through faulty reasoning

wondering if Hercules was available, pondering the twelve labors of Hercules assuming that Hercules was a mythical Greek obstetrician

Sorry about the whole not-showingup-at-school-for-a-few-weeks thing, Chloe pictured herself saying to the principal. You see, I'm a cat person and had to hide with others of my kind in a gigantic mainson called Firebird that also houses a real estate firm while this ancient Masonic-like cult tried to hunt me down because they think I killed one of their assassins. Oh, also, I have nine lives and am apparently the spiritual leader of my people, who belive they were created by ancient Egyptian goddesses.

That scene and every other seemed to vibrate with brilliance and humor as I typed them. The next day they read like the work of a fifteen-year-old with encouraging parents

He scrambled up the ladder and was back down in a time that would have impressed a cat being bathed in a tub of water on a hot tin roof.

which when compounded with the straw he was using to take intermittent sips with from his drink, conjured up an image of him as a real-life toy heat engine drinking bird that appears in science classes.

Herve held a sigh and let out a breath of relief.

The pair of them were both sans socks so beneath their footwear they were matching and going toe-to-toe.

He too was running off, but it was in the direction of the barn, and he was making a case for not being a jockey but a racing equine himself.

But her words may have physically reached Todd’s ears, but psychologically they could not stick the landing and fairly soon the local police tore after the suspected criminal in a pointed arrow manner, the latter of whom performed all sorts of leaps and spins to escape arrest, but it was no use, being bowled over and struck down by the pursuers, and he wound up in a gutter and his clumsy gymnastics came to a halt in a 0-10 split.

She could see a police car zooming into the parking lot and she ushered with her hands like a bullfighter on a runway that had lost his cape, but needed to get out of Spain to atone for his sins

There was an excitability about him that seemed it could dissipate at any moment as though he were Christmas in July but rather than sporting holiday cheer and sparkling fireworks, he offered the showing of amateur eggnog hangover and explanations about the lack of permits to the fire department.

He’s short, but his cheekbones are so high he can barely reach them.

Slotting his umbrella into the aptly named umbrella stand, his soothing heroic baritone voice sounded like cashmere as he spoke fitting snugly into the rescued ears of all his listeners.

was in everyday attire with sand-colored jeans and a denim-blue buttoned-down shirt with his lean muscles defined underneath and exposed with his rolled-up sleeves. His tannish skin was peppered with freckles and he was bestowed with a natural rouge on his face; matched with his dry wavy dirty blonde hair he looked like a scarecrow that had given up the farm in favor of greener racing pastures.

Her mane was red-herring tinted, but that would be misleading as it was mostly brunette.

her hips were having an argument with the upper half of her body as to who was to get more eye contact

Kevin Mason, a fireman with Fire Station 88 in Los Angeles, paced back and forth, agitated, in a back room of the First Presbyterian Church in Encino. He was tall, with gray hair and the hardened humor of someone who’d seen people die in his arms. “If there’s a big disaster,” he was saying, “you cannot expect assistance for how many days?” “Three to five days,” forty people recited in a staggered response. “You cannot count on us,” Mason continued. By us, he meant the fire department, the police, the ambulance companies, the national guard—anyone. “So who’s going to get you when there’s an emergency?” “Nobody,” the class thundered. “Nobody’s coming to your aid in a disaster,” Mason said, drilling the point into the head of every student, businessperson, housewife, and grandparent in the room. “You have to be independent.

By 'Perry Mason moment,' I mean that climactic instant during a trial when you have just done something fantastic and everyone in the courtroom knows it. Your brilliant question or some stunning admission you coerced from a witness has left the opposing lawyer reeling, his mouth agape, and jurors amazed and entertained. The case is won; the rest of the trial is a formality. Your friends and colleagues are itching to congratulate you as soon as a recess is called. Only a supreme effort of will on your part, coupled with the knowledge that the judge and jurors are watching, keeps you from high-fiving everyone in sight.