Librarian Humor Quotes

You see, that is the sad, sorry, terrible thing about sarcasm. It's really funny.

Jace's eyes sparkled, but he said calmly, "Not at all. the Silent Brothers can help her retrieve her memories." "You hate the Silent Brothers," protested Isabelle. "I don't hate them," said Jace candidly."I'm afraid of them. It's not the same thing." "I thought you said they were libarians," said Clary. "They are librarians." Simon whistled. "Those must be some killer late fees.

People can do great things. However, there are some things they just CAN'T do. I, for instance, have not been able to transform myself into a Popsicle, despite years of effort.

If she can't spell, why is she a librarian? Librarians should know how to spell.

Librarians are the secret masters of the world. They control information. Don't ever piss one off.

People flock in, nevertheless, in search of answers to those questions only librarians are considered to be able to answer, such as "Is this the laundry?" "How do you spell surreptitious?" and, on a regular basis, "Do you have a book I remember reading once? It had a red cover and it turned out they were twins.

Personally, I like it much better when someone else does the decision making. That way you have legitimate grounds to whine and complain. I tend to find both whining and complaining quite interesting and amusing, though sometimes--unfortunately--it's hard to choose which one of the two I want to do. Sigh. LIfe can be so tough sometimes.

Not all librarians are evil cultists. Some librarians are instead vengeful undead who want to suck your soul.

I froze, shocked. (And don't try to claim that you did anything different the first time a government bureaucrat pulled a gun on you.)

Amy, Dan, and Nellie were sitting at a table in a conference room, examining reproductions of Franklin documents-some so rare, the librarians told her, the only copies existed in Paris. "Yeah, here's a rare grocery list," Dan muttered. "Wow.

She's a librarian, Sim said. They're not teachers; don't give you half as much hassle. If there's a fire in the school and I've got to choose who I'm gonna save - a teacher or a librarian - the teacher's gonna burn every time. (p. 24)

To my thinking, a great librarian must have a clear head, a strong hand, and, above all, a great heart. And when I look into the future, I am inclined to think that most of the men who achieve this greatness will be women.

Sometimes it was daunting, knowing how easily I could break things. This one simple curse seemed to dominate my entire life.

God sometimes you just don't come through, Do you need a woman to look after you?

If Donald Trump and the Wicked Witch of the West had a kid, it would be Jayne-Anne. She looks like a librarian with some money and good taste in clothes but underneath the Verace, she's Godzilla with tits.

Bibliomancy: "Divination by jolly well Looking It Up.

The Librarian considered matters for a while. So…a dwarf and a troll. He preferred both species to humans. For one thing, neither of them were great readers. The Librarian was, of course, very much in favor of reading in general, but readers in particular got on his nerves. There was something, well, sacrilegious about the way they kept taking books off the shelves and wearing out the words by reading them. He liked people who loved and respected books, and the best way to do that, in the Librarian’s opinion, was to leave them on the shelves where Nature intended them to be.

Present company excluded, this looked to be the most pleasant detention ever experienced by mankind. Further proof that librarians should run the world-or a least be in charge of detention at Bathory High.

The ending of a book is, in my experience, both the best and worst part to read. For the ending will often determine whether you love or hate the book. Both emotions lead to disappointment. If the ending was good, and the book was worth your time, then you are left annoyed and depressed because there is no more book to read. However, if the ending was bad, then it's too late to stop reading. You're left annoyed and depressed because you wasted so much time on a book with a bad ending. Therefore, reading is obviously worthless, and you should go spend your time on other, more valuable pursuits.

She remembered the conversation in the Library, as forgetting was the last thing a fully-trained Librarian should do. Memories were as important as books, and almost as important as proper indexing.

Of course, like all the informal inhabitants of the University the roaches were a little unusual, but there was something particularly unpleasant about the sound of billions of very small feet hitting the stones in perfect time. Rincewind stepped gingerly over the marching column. The Librarian jumped it. The Luggage, of course, followed them with a noise like someone tapdancing over a bag of crisps.

Lee threw down the tripod, and Trip dropped the FN MAG machine gun onto it...Lee hunkered down behind the big weapon. Holly handed me an RPG. The heavy tube was reassuring in my hands. Everyone dug down into the ditch, prepared to fight. Nervous but competent. Scared but professional. We were ready to put some smack down. Not bad for an accountant, a librarian, a schoolteacher, and a stripper.

I was diagnosed a thirteen. Paranoid got tacked on about a year later, after I verbally attacked a librarian for trying to hand me propaganda pamphlets for an underground communist force operating out of the basement of the public library. (She'd always been a very suspect type of librarian--I refuse to believe donning rubber gloves to handle books is a normal and accepted practice, and I don't care what anyone says.)

I'm a librarian," he said. "I always know what I'm talking about.

I was coming to realize something very difficult. I was slowly accepting that the way I did things – the way my people did things – might not actually be the best way. In other words, I was feeling humility. I sincerely hope that you never have to feel this emotion. Like asparagus and fish, it’s not really as good for you as everyone says it is. Selfishness, arrogance, and callousness got me much further than humility ever did

In common with librarians the world over, the two women were used to dealing with a disproportionate quota of odd people acting strangely.

Just like old librarians, old coins are often more valuable than they appear at face value.

As a general rule, librarians are a kick in the pants socially, often full of good humor, progressive, and, naturally, well read

Silence!" Mr. Nice Yells. "Or I will begin plucking out eyeballs! Through your buttholes!

People don't read anymore. And, when they do, they don't read books like this one, but instead read books that depress them, because those books are seen as important. Somehow, the Librarians have successfully managed to convince most people in the Hushlands that they shouldn't read anything that isn't boring. It comes down to Biblioden the Scrivener's great vision for the world — a vision in which people never do anything abnormal, never dream, and never experience anything strange. His minions teach people to stop reading fun books, and instead focus on fantasy novels. That's what I call them, because these books keep people trapped. Keep them inside the nice little fantasy that they consider to be the 'real' world. A fantasy that tells them they don't need to try something new. After all, trying new things can be difficult.

He would not object, he said, to accepting a post as a librarian. But as Cecilia was unable to imagine that her father or her brother would feel any marked degree of satisfaction in giving her in marriage to a librarian, this very handsome concession on Mr Fawnhope's part merely added to her despondency.

Where do we start?” said Jackie. Josie told her. Jackie swore at her, and then apologized for swearing. “The library, though.” Jackie considered. “No. That’s. That’s.” She indicated with her hands what it was. “The search for truth takes us to dangerous places,” said Old Woman Josie. “Often it takes us to that most dangerous place: the library. You know who said that? No? George Washington did. Minutes before librarians ate him.

I soon forgot about my bedraggled appearance. Until, that is, an old man shuffled in and propped himself, hunched and wheezing, over the check-in desk. Karen asked him if he needed assistance. “No,” he grunted sucking on his teeth, “your wet-T-shirt librarian with the punk rock hair is helping me out just fine.

But you said I had to spend some time with them!" "A few hours, lad," Grandpa Smedry said, "to apologize for the trouble you'd given them. What did you expect? That I'd leave you here all summer, in the exact place where your enemies know where to look? With people that aren't even your family? In a place you don't really like, and that is depressingly normal compared to the world you've grown to love? Doesn't that sound a little stupid and contrived to you?

When you sell a man a book you don’t sell him just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue—you sell him a whole new life. Love and friendship and humor and ships at sea by night—there’s all heaven and earth in a book.

My Mom's book club is coming over today. It's like having a whole herd of librarians in your living room.

You're still like a chocolate cupcake while I'm that weird lemon-white chocolate cookie people always pick last because it's weird.

And so, untold millions screamed out in pain, and then were suddenly silenced. I hope you're happy.

I’m very fond of librarians. I go to many librarian conferences, and I’ve found that librarians tend to be a group that has far more humor to them than most people assume.

Believe it or not working in libraries is very similar to working on an ambulance or a fire truck. You take care of a lot of homeless people, you sometimes have to clean up things that require latex gloves, you always wear comfortable shoes, and you put out a lot of “fires”!

It was funny how none of her classes in library science had prepared her for this sort of thing, dead bodies, staff under suspicion, crazed reporters. Really, they need to consider expanding the curriculum.

A storm of yellow notepads, broken pencils, papers, and books littered the tables and floor of the room, along with a collection of empty beer cans. It looked as if a party of wild librarians had just cleared out.

When you sell a man a book you don’t sell him just twelve ounces of paper and ink and glue—you sell him a whole new life. Love and friendship and humor and ships at sea by night—there’s all heaven and earth in a book.’” It was as if someone had taken Viv’s life and bottled it into a simple quote.

Way to go. The last thing I want is to torment this poor woman with my potent masculinity. It is a curse to be so virile.

. . . for to mistreat a book is most certainly a punishable crime.

What would he do? He wouldn't be sitting here moping. He'd be figuring out some way of getting out of here. Christ, I'm woefully short on practical experience. The researcher's doom, actual field conditions.

Don't tell me you've succumbed to my charms. I assure you, no good will come of a passionate affair between us; you, a small town country librarian, me, the kingdom's most eligible bachelor.~ Nathaniel Thorn

I am a lunatic. Not an idiot. I go at night. To the kitchen. It's been terribly messy." The librarian paused, working his fingers into Ninety-Nine's fur. Ninety-Nine closed his eyes and leaned back into the scratching finger. "And ice cream is my favourite food. It's kept. In the freezer. Of course.

-¿Qué clase de cosas puedes romper? -De todo tipo. Puertas, dispositivos electrónicos, mesas... Una vez rompí un pollo. -¿Un pollo? -Sí, estaba de excursión. Me... frustré y cogí un pollo. Cuando lo solté, se le cayeron de golpe todas las plumas y, a partir de entonces, se negó a comer otra cosa que no fuera comida para gatos.

Shhh” , I almost jumped ten feet in the air, the librarian’s head shot up from under her desk and gave me a lethal look “We use our inside voices in the library, we don’t want to distract others from their work”. Er, excuse me lady, if you haven’t noticed, you and I are the only ones here. […] Librarians take their jobs way too seriously.

Miss Rudy, the former Harmony librarian, had single-handedly held off a siege of the town council bent on cutting her funds. She had locked the library doors and hid the only key in her bra, living on water from the toilet tank after the town had shut off water to the building to drive her out. She ate paste to keep up her strength. Oh, they had underestimated her. On the fourth day, the men of the council had capitulated, apologizing for cutting the funds, begging her to open the doors and come out. But she had stayed in the library an extra day, just to show them one could live on books, then marched out at noon on the fifth day, her head held high, and three pounds heavier. She had gained weight! When word got out, her picture made the cover of American Libraries magazine. Admiring letters poured in from librarians around the world – beaten down, beleaguered librarians who had drawn strength from her bravery. She answered each one in flowing, Palmer-method, handwritten script.

At the end of nothing the Universe was created, or perhaps it was all that was left when the end of nothing, ended. And thus the possible end of the Universe too was created in the same way that the Universe made the creation of something else, something hopefully even better, perhaps a Universe with less pesky librarians possible. However that is not news. Though it supposedly happened recently. Just around 13.8 billions years ago. But since nothing is something that is not anything, and not simply "nothing" it would be more accurate to say: At the end of something that was probably nothing and hopefully nothing special. The Universe replaced it with itself, something that is probably more worthwhile but in worst case perhaps even less special. Anyway, nobody will never know and any living thing will just have to make do with whatever universe they happen to be born in. Since that happened, and the printing press was invented around 13,799,999,700 years after the birth of the current Universe. Humans may now instead of spending the evening looking at all the boring stars, look at repeating patterns of black ink printed on egg white paper forming a combination of any of around a couple of just a hundred thousands words called pages. Put in collections known as books. In reality it was probably just a conspiracy to create work for graphic artists, librarians and book reviewers. Backed by the PIC paper industrial complex. But you did not read that here.

The Librarian was doing his best, however, standing in a sort of respectful heap at the end of the line and maintaining the kind of complex salute you can only achieve with a four-foot arm. "E's plain clothes, ma'am,' said Nobby smartly. 'Special Ape Services

It was funny how none of her classes in library science had prepared her for this sort of thing, dead bodies, staff under suspicion, crazed reporters. Really, they need to consider expanding the curriculum.

The expression in Steven’s eyes showed both understanding and amusement, and he watched with undisguised interest as Emma hastily covered her still-pulsing bosom. “I know,” he sighed, with a crooked, teasing grin. “You’re not that kind of girl.” Emma knew her face was crimson with embarrassment and umbrage, and only then, when it was too late, did she think to do her buttoning with her back turned. “I most certainly am not!” “You liked it,” Steven said, settling back with a smug sigh. “And from now until the day I take you, you’re going to be wondering what else I might have made you feel.” “You are insufferably arrogant, Mr. Fairfax!” “But right, nonetheless,” he responded easily. And then he had the bald effrontery to yawn. “You’re all warm and wet, and certain parts of you are feeling downright disappointed, whether you’ll admit to the fact or not.” A lame protest died in her throat. Everything Steven said was true, and she couldn’t deny it because she knew he’d see through the lie. “Emma the librarian,” he said huskily. Then he chuckled as though he found her occupation extraordinarily humorous. Emma’s knees felt weak as noodles, and a soft whimper rose in her throat at the brazen truth of his words. She swallowed it. “You overestimate your appeal, Mr. Fairfax,” she said. And then she turned on one heel and left the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Only

On a good day, my style is librarian chic. On a bad day, it's frumpy mother.

Funny how a person hung on to things that weren't of no use at all but then those were the things that pierced the soul when a body lost them.

The cryptek bowed, obsequious. "The stacks are full, my lord. We are over capacity. I have humbly suggested that we expand the collection into the space currently occupied by the wine cellars". "But then where would I put my wine, librarian?" You... you do not drink wine, my lord." "Of course I don't,' Trazyn snapped. "It's far too valuable. Request denied.

The road to success is paved with mistakes. * * * You don't have to be perfect to be your best. * * * Sometimes, failing your way to fabulous is the path to success. * * * "Turn failure into your friend!

Marina, I’m not just a bookfighter now. I’m a *librarian.* I’ve got my own beat. I can’t keep bending the rules for you anymore, Maz. We’re not kids anymore.” She pulled at her sleeve. “I wear a *cardigan*, for goodness’ sake.

Well I wouldn't be too anxious to ask her to dance, being your librarian she might read more into it than you intend.

Serenity took a sip of her rum. "You have a soul?" "Yeah. Tattooed on my ass. Want to see?

Kids, marriage, my job, her workaholic tendencies – it all flies out the window. I am not letting this woman go. Not anytime soon anyway.

I jumped and turned. Behind me stood a man of Moorish descent, his skin a chocolate brown, his eyes bright with good humor. Master Tarek was the Head Librarian of the Great Library and frequently served as tutor to the King’s children.

I turn around clumsily, as if wading through water. My brain won’t stop flipping its fins. So Jack’s a physicist—bad. An experimentalist—bad. The experimentalist—bad. He wants to hire some George dude—bad. He knows me as a librarian his brother’s dating—bad. He never liked me—bad. He thinks I made up my Ph.D.—badder—and am conning MIT into hiring me—baddest.

I have learned to flirt with ease, but my visceral and intellectual reaction to this man is robbing me of my usual banter. Is it because—for once—I feel understood? It is as if I am naked before him, without the armor of wit and humor I usually wear to these occasions.

Maybe he’d talk privately to Blaine later on, see what he could do to keep from being influenced by anything malevolent. Sage and salt in his underwear, maybe, although that would chafe. A little chafing was probably worth not having a spirit using him, though.

Kaz nodded. "If you fight and make a disturbance, the Librarians will cut off our exit out of the tunnel. Sparrows!" "Kaz, where did you pick up all that fowl language?" Bastille asked. "Sorry. Spent two weeks trapped in an ornithologist's convention during my last time lost.

Caz- “You’re a librarian, not a sorcerer.” Kiela- “Is there a difference?” Caz-“They’ve trained.” Kiela- “… and I’ve read.