Dry Humour Quotes

We all shook hands, and the policeman, having retrieved a piece of chewing-gum from the underside of a chair, where he had parked it against a rainy day, went off into a corner and began to contemplate the infinite. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

And more'?"
The name of the store is Dolls and More. He's asking what others have before him once they come into the store and only see dolls. I nod. "Dolls and more dolls. ~ Kasie West

My great Aunt Juliet was knocked over and killed by a bus when she was eighty-five. The bus was travelling very slowly in the right direction and could hardly have been missed by anyone except Aunt Juliet, who must have been travelling fairly fast in the wrong direction. ~ Robin Dalton

Chief Moroka was not as great an orator as most of the Native chiefs but he excelled in philosophy. In that respect his witty expressions and dry humour were equal to those of Moshueshue, the Basuto King. He spoke in a staccato voice, with short sentences and a stop after each, as though composing the next sentence. His speeches abounded in allegories and proverbial sayings, some traditional and others spontaneous. His own maxims had about them the spice of originality which always provided his auditors with much food for thought. [104] ~ Sol T. Plaatje

I'd rather not see their eyes. Eyes can say so much. Theirs say, 'I want to steal your soul so don't turn your back on us. ~ Kasie West

So Caymen ... "
"So, Xander ... "
"Like the islands."
"What?"
"Your name. Caymen. Like the Cayman Islands. Is that your mom's favourite place to visit or something?"
"No, it's her third favourite place. I have an older brother named Paris and an older sister named Sydney."
"Wow." He opens the bag, takes out a muffin, and hands it to me. The top glistens with sprinkled sugar. "Really?"
I gently unwrap it. "No. ~ Kasie West

Leroy's reasoning is dry as a razor, and Chantal agrees: love as an exaltation of two individuals, love as fidelity, passionate attachment to a single person - no, that doesn't exist. And if it does exist, it is only as self-punishment, willful blindness, escape into a monastery. She tells herself that even if it does exist, love ought not to exist, and the idea does not maker her bitter, on the contrary, it produces a bliss that spreads throughout her body. She thinks of the metaphor of the rose that moves through all men and tells herself that she has been living locked away by love and now she is ready to obey the myth of the rose and merge with its giddy fragrance. ~ Milan Kundera

You can never judge a paint hue by the liquid color in the paint pot. You must apply it to a wall, wait for the paint to dry, then decide. ~ Dorothy Draper

And then Ardee herself was so much more complicated in person than she had been as a silent memory. Nine parts witty, clever, fearless, attractive. One part a mean and destructive drunk. Every moment with her was a lottery, but perhaps it was that sense of danger that struck the sparks when they touched, made his skin tingle and his mouth go dry . . . ~ Joe Abercrombie

What a morning," Louis would say as they walked the rocky, dry hills above their rented chateau just outside Marseilles. "I want to take this day, fold it up, and put it in my pocket so I can have it again and again. ~ Nancy Horan

When I find someone I respect writing about an edgy, nervous wine that dithered in the glass, I cringe. When I hear someone I don't respect talking about an austere, unforgiving wine, I turn a bit austere and unforgiving myself. When I come across stuff like that and remember about the figs and bananas, I want to snigger uneasily. You can call a wine red, and dry, and strong, and pleasant. After that, watch out ... ~ Kingsley Amis

I had done something wrong. I shouldn't have shown him. But he had known, hadn't he? What had I done? I retreated quickly down the aisle, pushing my way through the double doors into the porch, where I swiped one of my eyes dry. For a long moment I stood in the dim room, looking blankly at the flyers for bake sales and Bible studies on the noticeboard.
Then I heard him shout, "Damn you! Why?"
I looked through the clear glass of the porch doors to see if he spoke to some barely seen faerie. But to my eyes, there was no one there but Luke and God. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

You love your wars for the coffers, but for the warrior and the widow, the orphan and the owned, you've not two dry fucks to give. ~ Christopher Moore

I wonder if you know yet that you'll leave me. That you are a child playing with matches and I have a paper body. You will meet a girl with a softer voice and stronger arms and she will not have violent secrets or an affection for red wine or eyes that never stay dry. You will fall into her bed and I'll go back to spending Friday nights with boys who never learn my last name. ~ Clementine Von Radics

She returned many years later. So much time had passed that the smell of musk in the room had blended in with the smell of the dust, with the dry and tiny breath of the insects. I was alone in the house, sitting in the corner, waiting. And I had learned to make out the sound of rotting wood, the flutter of the air becoming old in the closed bedrooms. That was when she came. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Adam was charming and spoke perfect French. Like many anglophones in Montréal, he actually spoke French better than we did. They knew exactly which verbs to use in the same way that people knew which utensils to use while eating at a fancy dinner. It was very proper because they learned it from books. They didn't know slang or how to curse. They didn't know how to do anything other than be proper and reserved. It was state-sponsored, dry-clean-only French. ~ Heather O'Neill

You know that if you get in the water and have nothing to hold on to, but try to behave as you would on dry land, you will drown. But if, on the other hand, you trust yourself to the water and let go, you will float. And this is exactly the situation of faith. ~ Alan Watts

It's interesting, once I have convinced people that, yes, I have a sister with a mental disability, the retard jokes really dry up, so I'm not sure how much retard humor is really going on out there, but I imagine there's a lot because it's a pretty safe group to make fun of. It's not like the Retards of America are gonna rise up and organize a protest. They're not gonna write letters. They only just recently got the Supreme Court to stop executing them. ~ Bonnie McFarlane

Here with my beer I sit, while golden moments flit: alas! They pass unheeded by: and as they fly, I, being dry, sit idly sipping here, my beer. ~ George Arnold

I am always keen to discover something new, but my advice is always to exfoliate. Get rid of those dead, dry cells; then the new skin is ready for moisturising, and you find your inner dewy, youthful glow. It's in there somewhere. ~ Lulu

Humour is the describing the ludicrous as it is in itself; wit is the exposing it, by comparing or contrasting it with something else. Humour is, as it were, the growth of nature and accident; wit is the product of art and fancy. ~ William Hazlitt

What am I to call it? Diffidence? The fear of ridicule? Inverted vanity? What matters names, if it has brought me to this? I could never bear to be bustling about nothing; I was ashamed of this toy kingdom from the first; I could not tolerate that people should fancy I believed in a thing so patently absurd! I would do nothing that cannot be done smiling. I have a sense of humour, forsooth! I must know better than my Maker. And it was the same thing in my marriage," he added more hoarsely. "I did not believe this girl could care for me; I must not intrude; I must preserve the foppery of my indifference. What an impotent picture!"
"Ay, we have the same blood," moralised Gotthold. "You are drawing, with fine strokes, the character of the born sceptic."
"Sceptic? - coward!" cried Otto. "Coward is the word. A springless, putty-hearted, cowering coward! ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

It's August, which means Congress is on recess and Mitch McConnell has shimmied back into the ocean to seek a mate. ~ Stephen Colbert

PHYSICIAN, n. One upon whom we set our hopes when ill and our dogs when well. ~ Ambrose Bierce

February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars Burns in the blackness of the spring. Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas, Race through the noice of bells and wheels To where the ink and all you grieving Are muffled when the rainshower falls. To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal, A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees, Fall down into the puddles, hurl Dry sadness deep into the eyes. Below, the wet black earth shows through, With sudden cries the wind is pitted, The more haphazard, the more true The poetry that sobs its heart out. ~ Boris Pasternak

Mr Gray didn't care much for Jonesy's body (or so he told himself; in truth it was hard not to feel at least some affection for something capable of providing such unexpected pleasures as 'bacon' and 'murder'), but it did have to take him another couple of hundred miles. ~ Stephen King

I suppose we should send someone to make sure the queen does not come to the wall also," the king jested.
"I would say that it is too late for that, my lord," a feminine voice answered from the group gathered in the courtyard. They all turned to find the queen dressed in chain mail and wearing a conical helmet on her head. ~ Alex George

I guess we could find a bench."

"No, you wanted the grass." He stood for a minute, brow creased. Then abruptly he took off his suit jacket and spread it out on the ground. "There. You can sit on that."

She stared at him. Surely he didn't mean that? She knew how important having his jacket all in order was to him, because every day when he came home from work, the first thing he did was take off his suit and hang it up so it remained perfectly pressed. He was a tidy kind of guy and she respected that, even if she didn't understand it.

"But…it'll get dirty."

"I'll get it dry-cleaned afterward." And when she hesitated, he gestured toward it again. "Go on, sit. ~ Jackie Ashenden

(I've often noticed that people equate "having a sense of humour" with "being an insensitive moron.") ~ Sophie Kinsella

To the enormous majority of persons who risk themselves in literature, not even the smallest measure of success can fall. They had better take to some other profession as quickly as may be, they are only making a sure thing of disappointment, only crowding the narrow gates of fortune and fame. Yet there are others to whom success, though easily within their reach, does not seem a thing to be grasped at. Of two such, the pathetic story may be read, in the Memoir of A Scotch Probationer, Mr. Thomas Davidson, who died young, an unplaced Minister of the United Presbyterian Church, in 1869. He died young, unaccepted by the world, unheard of, uncomplaining, soon after writing his latest song on the first grey hairs of the lady whom he loved. And she, Miss Alison Dunlop, died also, a year ago, leaving a little work newly published, Anent Old Edinburgh, in which is briefly told the story of her life. There can hardly be a true tale more brave and honourable, for those two were eminently qualified to shine, with a clear and modest radiance, in letters. Both had a touch of poetry, Mr. Davidson left a few genuine poems, both had humour, knowledge, patience, industry, and literary conscientiousness. No success came to them, they did not even seek it, though it was easily within the reach of their powers. Yet none can call them failures, leaving, as they did, the fragrance of honourable and uncomplaining lives, and such brief records of these as to delight, and console and encourage us al ~ Andrew Lang

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge. ~ Raymond Chandler

I took the volume to a table, opened its soft, ivory pages ... and fell into it as into a pool during dry season. ~ Janet Fitch

You could ask me to teach you."
"Huh?" This night is getting weird in a hurry. "Teach me like you're teaching a class or something? What are you going to call it: 'You Too Can Be a Sociopath 101'?"
"It would be more like a graduate-level class."
I start to snicker. His sense of humour sneaks up on you. Then I remember who's talking and bite it off. ~ Karen Marie Moning

Following Jesse's wonderful advice I will have to change my quote to:
If have a sense of humour, you'll love my books; if you don't have a sense of humour, please read my books nonetheless
no matter what you have please just read my books. ~ Jayde Scott

Why, how much did you tip him?'
Ford named a figure again.
'I don't know how much it is,' said Arthur. 'What's it worth in pounds sterling? What could it buy you?'
'It would probably buy you, roughly... er...' Ford screwed his eyes up as he did some calculations in his head. 'Switzerland,' he said at last. ~ Douglas Adams

Yes, I actually have a portable fly-tying kit in my vest. I spent hours putting it all together, with a special emphasis on midge materials as well as enough fur and feathers to whip out a half dozen of virtually every conceivable dry pattern nature can throw at me. I have used it once, in 1993. ~ Jack Ohman