Humour Central Quotes

Do you really think you'd win a PR war against a bunch of committed librarians?' He thought about this, but he knew I was right. The libraries were a treasured institution and so central to everyday life that government and commerce rarely did anything that might upset them.Some say they were more powerful than the military, or, if not, they were certainly quieter. As they say: Don't mess with librarians. Only they use a stronger word than 'mess'...

No one believes that the world can come to an end, therefore no one believes it can be saved.

If the US is a human melting pot, then Eastern Europe is a scrap yard.

It’s not easy to be God.

Our romantic lives are fated to be sad and incomplete, because we are creatures driven by two essential desires which point powerfully in entirely opposing directions. Yet what is worse is our utopian refusal to countenance the divergence, our naive hope that a cost-free synchronisation might somehow be found: that the libertine might live for adventure while avoiding loneliness and chaos. Or that the married Romantic might unite sex with tenderness, and passion with routine.” “Infatuations aren’t delusions. That way a person has of holding their head may truly indicate someone confident, wry and sensitive; they really may have the humour and intelligence implied by their eyes and the tenderness suggested by their mouth. The error of the infatuation is more subtle: a failure to keep in mind the central truth of human nature that everyone – not merely our current partners, in whose multiple failings we are such experts – but everyone will have something substantially and maddeningly wrong with them when we spend more time around them, something so wrong as to make a mockery of those initially rapturous feelings. The only people who can still strike us as normal are those we don’t yet know very well. The bet cure for love is to get to know them better.

In the words of Mr Thierry Coup of Warner Bros: 'We are taking the most iconic and powerful moments of the stories and putting them in an immersive environment. It is taking the theme park experience to a new level.' And of course I wish Thierry and his colleagues every possible luck, and I am sure it will be wonderful. But I cannot conceal my feelings; and the more I think of those millions of beaming kids waving their wands and scampering the Styrofoam turrets of Hogwartse_STmk, and the more I think of those millions of poor put-upon parents who must now pay to fly to Orlando and pay to buy wizard hats and wizard cloaks and wizard burgers washed down with wizard meade_STmk, the more I grind my teeth in jealous irritation. Because the fact is that Harry Potter is not American. He is British. Where is Diagon Alley, where they buy wands and stuff? It is in London, and if you want to get into the Ministry of Magic you disappear down a London telephone box. The train for Hogwarts goes from King's Cross, not Grand Central Station, and what is Harry Potter all about? It is about the ritual and intrigue and dorm-feast excitement of a British boarding school of a kind that you just don't find in America. Hogwarts is a place where children occasionally get cross with each other—not 'mad'—and where the situation is usually saved by a good old British sense of HUMOUR. WITH A U. RIGHT? NOT HUMOR. GOTTIT?

There are men whose sense of humour is so ill developed that they still bear a grudge against Copernicus because he dethroned them from the central position in the universe. They feel it a personal affront that they can no longer consider themselves the pivot upon which turns the whole of created things.

It's a sad day for American Capitalism when a man can't fly a midget on a kite over central park.

May 29, the Central Committee of the Sections goes into “permanent session” — what a fine, crisis-ridden sound it has, that term!

Un chef d’État de cette Europe centrale où les chefs d’État peuvent, à bon droit, craindre à chaque instant pour leur vie, avait révélé à son confident un plan mis au point au cours de centaines de nuits d’insomnie, et qui devait permettre au chef de l’État de déserter l’État que, comme tous les autres chefs d’État d’Europe centrale font avec le leur, il avait bien entendu conduit systématiquement à la ruine la plus complète (L'imitateur)

But in the service when we recite 'They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old', we both cry. For different reasons. I have become swept up in this. These wiry old lions. Their properness. Their improperness. Their tidy jackets. Their name tags. Their risky humour. Their imagination. Their no shit. I am ashamed of what we haven't done with our freedom and their victories. Living off the fat of the land. With our central heating and our power steering and our fast food and our leaf-blowers and our shopping malls. My tears are self-indulgent: about loss, the world; and about me probably. While Dad is just having a cry.

Maxwell D. Kalist is a receiving teller at a city bank, Orwell and Finch, where he runs an efficient department of twenty two clerks and twelve junior clerks. He carries a leather-bound vade mecum everywhere with him – a handbook of the most widely contravened banking rules. He works humourlessly (on the surface of it) in a private, perfectly square office on the third floor of a restored grain exchange midway along the Eastern flank of Květniv’s busy, modern central plaza. Behind his oblong slate desk and black leather swivel chair is an intimidating, three-storey wall made almost entirely of bevelled, glare-reducing grey glass in art-deco style; one hundred and thirty six rectangles of gleam stacked together in a dangerously heavy collage.

The Ne-Ti axis also leads to a curious duality in the thinking of the INTP. The dominant Ti core tends to assume the role of a controller and organiser of his life, while the Ne behaves like a free spirit, almost childlike in its enthusiasm. The INTP tends to experience these two forces as an almost continuous tug-of-war, with neither ever quite gaining the upper hand. He is not disturbed by this duality and can view it with wistful humour. If he has been free-spiriting for any length of time, he soon feels duty bound to analyse his behaviour and systematise it. While if he has been in an analytical mode for a while, he will soon decide that he can do what he wants freely after all.

You have to consider three main things with your active listening; Concentrate on the idea: you don’t need to agree or nod to everything that is said, but rather concentrate on important thoughts or ideas that are being brought to limelight. Focus on insight, humour, and other central thoughts that your partner is covering or hiding.

The other night I was invited out for a night with the 'girls.' I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, 'I promise!' Well, the hours passed and the Blue Wkds went down way too easily. Around 3 a.m., a bit pissed, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hallway started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. (Even when totally smashed... 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos MIDNIGHT!) The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, I told him 'MIDNIGHT'... he didn't seem pissed off in the least. Whew, I got away with that one! Then he said 'We need a new cuckoo clock.' When I asked him why, he said, 'Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said 'oh shit.' Cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed another three times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted.

If you see me smiling, I'm probably thinking of doing something evil. If I’m laughing, I've already done it.

Dark humour at first appears like the enemy of the mature self; it keeps on asking us to find the least admirable parts of human nature entertaining. But its pleasure lies in its kindness: dark humour is inviting us to compassion for ourselves and for others; it teaches the generous, tender idea that the more disturbed parts of our minds are manageable and are, in fact, central to the noblest ideal: that of being able to love others as they truly are.

Patient: Oh doctor, I’m just so nervous. This is my first operation. Doctor: Don't worry. Mine too.

I saw two kids fighting in the elementary school playground. Being the only adult around, I had to step in. They didn’t stand a chance.

Both metaphor and simile depend on our innate capacity for seeing correspondences. Such is an essential part of our ability to make sense of the world. Observing (perceiving) that ‘this resembles that’ (in abstract as well as visible ways) is an intellectual process central to the narratives we spin about our lives, about others, about natural processes, about any spiritual (religious) beliefs we might have. We use this intellectual process seriously in trying to explain things, and unselfconsciously in our everyday language. It is also an essential trait of humour.

…A very entertaining read, with a cast of characters that feel like you’ve met before... But these are not the images from a quaint postcard. The Liquor Vicar is full of the troubled and broken hearted, but Ditrich finds depth and honesty, and most centrally the humour in these intersecting lives. A great debut.” Aaron Chapman, Vancouver-based historian, and author of ‘Liquor, Lust and the Law’, and ‘The Last Gang in Town