Turtles Funny Quotes

I remember the will said, 'May God thy gold refine.' That must be from the Bible." "Shakespeare," Turtle said. All quotations were either from the Bible or Shakespeare.

The corner of his mouth quirked up suddenly. “What?” Clary demanded. “Is something funny?” “ ‘Flying death turtle’?” he said. “Only you.

Sleep just go to sleep. Cam lived across the hall? You need to get up early. Go to sleep. How in the world was that possible? He was everywhere I went. Go to sleep. And why did he have a pet turtle and did he seriously name it after the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, because that was kind of funny. Morning's going to come soon. Did he only wear a shirt during class? Oh my God, he seriously lived across the hall. Jacob was going to flip...and probably move in. That would be fun. I really liked Jacob, but I had a feeling he'd borrow my clothes. Go the fuck to sleep.

Funny to think that every day you have ever lived is a yesterday, and you will never live one single tomorrow. But then again, every day is a today when you’re living it.

Let's continue this awkward silence in person

What is it with folks always talking about where they’re from? You could grow up in a muddy ditch, but if it’s your muddy ditch, then it’s gotta be the swellest muddy ditch ever.

They laughed because something was funny; I laughed because they had.

I realized in the silence that followed that I hadn't spoken a single word -- and even though I laughed with them, it felt like I was watching a movie about my life instead of living it. And then they went back to talking, everyone telling stories, laughing, I tried to smile and shake my head at the right times, but I was always a moment behind the rest of them. They laughed because something was funny. I laughed because they had.

I tried to smile and shake my head at the right times, but I was always a moment behind them. They laughed because something was funny; I laughed because they had.

It isn’t funny just to make someone’s life worse.

One of Victor’s friends had a pet called “Terry the Truth Cat.” When she was little and her father thought she was lying he would pick up the cat and say, “You kids tell me the truth or Terry gets it.” I guess it was supposed to help with honesty but it seems pretty fucked up. Plus, I don’t think I could threaten a cat. Maybe we could get Terry the Truth Turtle and threaten him with a fake gun. We’d be trying to get our daughter, Hailey, to tell the truth and he’d just hide his head in his shell like, “I’m not part of this. I’m not with you guys.” But I don’t like guns so maybe we could hold it over a pot of boiling

If it was an emergency, you would have hung up and called back. Over and over again. Leaving progressively more and more threatening messages about what you were going to do to me when you did finally get a hold of me,” he told her, signing off on the bottom of the letter he’d just finished and moving it to the side. “I would never do that,” she said. “No?” When she did finally send him reports it was always in folders that were named things like I’m Not Your Fucking Secretary and If You Ask Me to Get You Coffee It Will Definitely Have Turtle Shit In It. “If I really needed your attention, I’d start texting. Photos. Naked photos.” His entire body reacted to that. He cleared his throat. “I would definitely—.” “Of my grandfather.” Bennett paused. Then groaned. He knew her grandfather. Leo Landry was a great guy. Funny, down-to-earth, honest, loyal. And someone that Bennett absolutely did not ever want to see naked. Ever. “You’re an evil woman.” “Remember that.

My parents do not limit themselves to worrying about things that have actually happened. Dreams are also fair game. I often get phone calls with detailed descriptions of a dream, followed by "So naturally, I had to call to make sure you were okay and there wasn't a reason why I dreamed of you trapped in a canoe with a blue turtle.

And everywhere, just as there were animals on land, were the animals of the sea. The tiniest fish made the largest schools- herring, anchovies, and baby mackerel sparkling and cavorting in the light like a million diamonds. They twirled into whirlpools and flowed over the sandy floor like one large, unlikely animal. Slightly larger fish came in a rainbow, red and yellow and blue and orange and purple and green and particolored like clowns: dragonets and blennies and gobies and combers. Hake, shad, char, whiting, cod, flounder, and mullet made the solid middle class. The biggest loners, groupers and oarfish and dogfish and the major sharks and tuna that all grew to a large, ripe old age did so because they had figured out how to avoid human boats, nets, lines, and bait. The black-eyed predators were well aware they were top of the food chain only down deep, and somewhere beyond the surface there were things even more hungry and frightening than they. Rounding out the population were the famous un-fish of the ocean: the octopus, flexing and swirling the ends of her tentacles; delicate jellyfish like fairies; lobsters and sea stars; urchins and nudibranchs... the funny, caterpillar-like creatures that flowed over the ocean floor wearing all kinds of colors and appendages. All of these creatures woke, slept, played, swam about, and lived their whole lives under the sea, unconcerned with what went on above them. But there were other animals in this land, strange ones, who spoke both sky and sea. Seals and dolphins and turtles and the rare fin whale would come down to hunt or talk for a bit and then vanish to that strange membrane that separated the ocean from everything else. Of course they were loved- but perhaps not quite entirely trusted.

Fact is, I’m almost embarrassed to tell you: a dickey is a fake turtleneck sweater. In other words, it’s the neck minus the turtle. You wear it underneath an open-collar, button-down shirt. Back in the sixties it was a very groovy look.

Palm sex. Rings a bell, I know, what with the joke about Mrs Palmer and her five lovely daughters. Wish I could find that funny, but like the act it’s too obvious and predictable. Fondle-rub-oooh-fondle-rub-rub-hah-hah-hah-hah-oooooooooh God! And you’re not even Catholic. But palm sex is something else. It’s the act of any stranger sucking the centre of your palm, where the lifeline and heartline intersect, to draw out the nasty ache hiding there. A thorn or sliver of glass or wood or the thinnest chip of china from the last decent plate in the house after one of its creatures had lost her temper. I

passing Alien jostled Orr slightly in the crowd on the mall; it raised its left elbow to apologize, and Orr muttered, “Sorry.” It stopped, half blocking his way: and he too halted, startled and impressed by its nine-foot, greenish, armored impassivity. It was grotesque to the point of being funny; like a sea turtle, and yet like a sea turtle it possessed a strange, large beauty, a serener beauty than that of any dweller in sunlight, any walker on the earth.

At present, the ottoman was occupied by a pair of cats who eyed Alex with blasé effeteness. He stuck his hands in his pockets and eyed them back. "Romeo and Juliet," she told him. "They used to be lovers, but since that visit to the vet they're just friends." "Are they friendly?" he asked, stretching out a hand at Romeo's funny pushed-in face. "They're cats," she said, grinning as Romeo turned up his nose at the outstretched hand. Juliet wasn't interested, either. They poured themselves off the furniture, then minced away. "I think they've been talking to your friends at the restaurant," Alex said. "They don't talk to anyone." She saw him glance at the terrarium on the windowsill. "The turtles are Tristan and Isolde, and their offspring are Heloise and Abelard." "So where are Cleopatra and Mark Antony?" he asked. "In a tomb in Egypt, I imagine. But you can look in the fish tank and see Bonnie and Clyde, Napoleon and Josephine, and Jane and Guildford." He bent and peered into the lighted tank. "Fun couples. Is it a coincidence that they all ended tragically?" "Not a coincidence, just poor judgment." "Isn't it bad karma, naming your pets after doomed lovers?" "I don't think they care.

Who’s it?” said Conor Larkin, appearing in the adjoining balcony, followed by Ricky and Jason. “The Turtle from the Train Station,” said Guy. Right, I thought, that’s the impression I made. He remembers me as an honorary member of the reptile family.

They say the odds of us being conceived come out to one in four hundred trillion; the fact that we’re alive, healthy and able to work from nine to five is literally a miracle. I once heard a Buddhist metaphor that described the amazing probability of this ‘miracle’: Imagine a lifebuoy thrown into an ocean, and a single turtle living somewhere in all the oceans, swimming around underwater. The chances of my being conceived were the same as the odds of Mr Turtle sticking his head out of the water straight into the middle of that life donut – or the same as the chances of my dad having an orgasm sober.