October Funny Quotes

If anything attacked us, we could just panic at it until it went away.

It's funny how people can change your life without meaning to. Even the fucked-up, crazy people leave everything different when they go away.

I am so tired of this gothic crap,” I muttered. “Just once, I want to meet the villain in a cheerful, brightly lit room. Possibly one with kittens.

I was getting tired of being in an endless succession of things called "the fight of a lifetime." Just once, I'd like to have the fight of a Tuesday afternoon.

If someone had asked him, “Ben, are you lonely? , ” he would have looked at that someone with real surprise. The question had never even occurred to him. He had no friends, but he had his books and his dreams; he had his Revell models; he had a gigantic set of Lincoln Logs and built all sorts of stuff with them. His mother had exclaimed more than once that Ben’s Lincoln Logs houses looked better than some real ones that came from blueprints. He had a pretty good Erector Set, too. He was hoping for the Super Set when his birthday came around in October. With that one you could build a clock that really told time and a car with real gears in it. Lonely? he might have asked in return, honestly foozled. Huh? What? A child blind from birth doesn’t even know he’s blind until someone tells him. Even then he has only the most academic idea of what blindness is; only the formerly sighted have a real grip on the thing. Ben Hanscom had no sense of being lonely because he had never been anything but. If the condition had been new, or more localized, he might have understood, but loneliness both encompassed his life and overreached it. It simply was, like his double-jointed thumb or the funny little jag inside one of his front teeth, the little jag his tongue began running over whenever he was nervous.

I squared my shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that I was standing in the apartment of the sea witch, wearing a fairy-tale prom gown, waiting for the attack of the mermaids.

Thank God she wasn't wearing shorts. She hadn't shaved her legs in a week, theorizing that October in the mountains was pretty darn cold and she might need the extra layer of insulation.

In the interests of friendship, I hope you’ll forgive me what I’m about to do.” “Forgive you wha—” My sentence was cut off as he clamped his mouth over mine, kissing me deeply. ... “Ready to make a scene?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do I have a choice?” “Not really. To quote something someone said to me recently, in the interests of friendship, I hope you’ll forgive what I’m about to do.” I drew back my hand and slapped him across the face. The smack of flesh striking flesh echoed through the hall. Conversations stopped as people whipped around to stare at us. Raising my voice to something just below a shout, I snarled, “You asshole!

It won't work. You see, he is a liar and a thief. And he's been one for too long. He can't retire now. In addition to which. He has become, I'm afraid, a hack.' 'He may be all those things but she knows he's not.' 'What gives her that curious idea?' 'She's been with him constantly for the last few days. She's seen him shaking with terror, exhausted, ready to quit. She's watched him pull himself together again and she's also seen him be warm and tender. And funny. Not famous-international-wit funny but really funny.' 'Do you think she's an idiot? Do you think she doesn't know what kind of man he is? Or what he needs?' 'And what he needs is L-O-V-E? Uh-uh it's too late. He is 43 years old. Or will be this October. He's been married twice, both times disastrously and there have been too many years of... too much dough, too much bad writing and too much whiskey. He's got nothing left inside to give. Even if he could, which he can't.' 'But that's not true. You can, you have. I just know it.' 'No, you don't. It's lousy. In any case, the problem is you're not in love with the script. You're in love with me. And why shouldn't you be? When suddenly, waltzing into your life comes this charming and relatively handsome stranger. Me. Smooth as silk, with a highly practised line of chatter, specifically designed to knock relatively unsophisticated chicks like you Miss Simpson, right on their ears. Which I'm terribly afraid I've done. Well if it's the last decent thing I do in this world, and it very well may be, I'm going to fix that. I'm going to send you packing Miss Simpson before I cause you serious and irrevocable harm. You want the truth? Of course you don't. I'll give it to you anyway. I do not give one damn about anything.

He told how the light moved, he told of shadows, he told how the air was white and bright and pale; he told how for a little while Earth began to grow like Elfland, with a kinder light and the beginning of colours, and then just as one thought of home the light would blink away and the colours be gone. He told of stars. He told of cows and goats and the moon, three horned creatures that he found curious. He had found more wonder in Earth than we remember, though we also saw these things once for the first time; and out of the wonder he felt at the ways of the fields we know, he made many a tale that held the inquisitive trolls and gripped them silent upon the floor of the forest, as though they were indeed a fall of brown leaves in October that a frost had suddenly bound. They heard of chimneys and carts for the first time: with a thrill they heard of windmills. They listened spell-bound to the ways of men; and every now and then, as when he told of hats, there ran through the forest a wave of little yelps of laughter. Then he said that they should see hats and spades and dog-kennels, and look through casements and get to know the windmill; and a curiosity arose in the forest amongst that brown mass of trolls, for their race is profoundly inquisitive.

Great is our LORD and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit. PSALM 147:5 OCTOBER 18 One day, a radio and television producer I know was sitting in the airport reading the New Testament. A soldier sitting next to him said, “You know, I don’t think Jesus ever lived at all. It’s all a myth and a fairy tale. He never lived.” “It’s funny you would say that,” the producer said, “because He was with me here just a minute ago.” “He was with you a minute ago?” asked the soldier. “Is that why you look so peaceful and so happy?” “Yes, and you, too, can be peaceful and happy if you will let Him help you get rid of your conflicts and fears. He loves you as much as He loves me.” The soldier took my friend’s hand and said, “Okay. I think maybe you’ve got something here. I’ll try.” Now all that any of us can do is to try. And as we try, God will meet our feeble efforts much more than halfway. He will give us the power to stand up against fears, disappointments, frustration, opposition, misunderstanding—everything—and we will walk with our heads above it all into victory.

Is the weather nice?” “Yeah, we’re in Austin. Got here about an hour ago. It’s probably 80 degrees.” “Wish I could say the same for here.” I sigh. “Get this: it snowed last night. Like real, motherfucking snowflakes.” I’m trying to act pissed, but I can’t bring myself to it because I’m so happy to be talking to Gus right now. I know I don’t have long, so I need to make the most of it. He laughs. “No way?” “Yeah, it’s October. Isn’t snow against the rules or something until at least December?” “You’re asking the wrong dude that question. Is it cold?” “Yeah, I had to buy a winter coat today. Though for the locals this is probably still T-shirt weather. I swear Minnesotans have some sort of mutant gene that makes them immune to hot and cold. It’s freaky.” He laughs again but then turns serious. “What about boots? Did you buy some boots? You’ll need boots.” It’s funny when he acts parental. I over-exaggerate a full body shiver. “Stop. Buying the coat was bad enough. I don’t want to give in to the snow boots yet. I need time to work up to that. Maybe next month, or the one after that.” The truth is, I’ll need to buy the boots new, because used shoes skeeve me out, and I need to save up for them. That will take a while. “You’re right, you’d better pace yourself.” He’s teasing me. I tease him right back. “Need I remind you that you’re touring the United States this winter? That includes the northern frigid states. You’re going to need to buy a winter coat too, you know.” He exhales through gritted teeth. “I know. I’m still in cold-weather denial.” “It’s a nice place to visit, denial, but you can’t live there forever, dude.” Maybe I should take my own advice. “Bright Side, are you quoting Confucius or JFK? That sounds so familiar.” I know without seeing him that he’s wearing this dumb, mocking expression that makes me laughevery time. “Dude, I think it was Yoda, in The Empire Strikes Back. It was part of Luke’s Jedi training or something.

His diary recorded a mixture of moods: October 17: Out to Mount Vernon. . . . Bracing cool air; cloudless sky; warm autumn sunshine. Shapeless, droopy people—stuffy from Sunday morning waffles and funny papers, tired from not walking—staggered out of shiny automobiles and dragged themselves around the grounds of the old mansion.... Grasshoppers flicked themselves around before us. An occasional late bird sang from the hard, many-colored foliage. The corn was stacked in the fields.... It was very nice and encouraging, but in the distance the roar of the Sunday traffic on the big turnpike was never lost, and it was never clearer that man is a skin-disease of the earth.

Columbus’s journals abounded with references to them: on October 21, 1492, he saw “flocks of parrots that darken the sun.

It’s funny how people can change your life without meaning to. Even the fucked-up, crazy people leave everything different when they go away.

We have a funny relationship with pleasure. We talk about simple pleasures or guilty pleasures, it's 'business or pleasure', but never the two together, and I've noticed that when we have a choice between pleasure or pain, we seem to think there's a worthiness in choosing pain.