#humor

What kind of husband would I be if I bet against my own marriage?' I smiled. 'The stupid kind. Didn't you listen to your dad when he told you not to bet against me? ↗

— Jamie McGuire

#certainty #humor #husband #husband-and-wife #love

No, you just keep polishing your fangs or whatever you guys do in there. ↗

— Jayde Scott

#inspirational

When you see what some girls marry, you realize how they must hate to work for a living. ↗

— Helen Rowland

#marriage #women #work #humor

We can’t be lovers because we both have mustaches. But since you’re a lady, and I’m a gentleman, I’ll shave mine off. ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#funny #gentleman #humor #love #lovers

You absolutely don't know what's going to happen next - that's surrender. ↗

— Art Hochberg

#inspirational #art

That's what I meant,' said Pippin. 'We hobbits ought to stick together, and we will. I shall go, unless they chain me up. There must be someone with intelligence in the party. ↗

— J.R.R. Tolkien

#pippin #quote #humor

I've always been very upfront about the way I write, and I've always used the tools humorists use, such as exaggeration. ↗

— David Sedaris

#always #been #exaggeration #humorists #i

I shed a tear when I meet somebody who always quits. Reliable people are so rare in this world. ↗

— Bauvard

#humor #quitting #reliability #funny

A brick could be used to silence your critics. Well, unless all your critics are mutes.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#brick-and-blanket-iq-test #brick-and-blanket-responses #brick-and-blanket-test #brick-and-blanket-uses #funny

In fact, the only things in the flat Crowley devoted any personal attention to were the houseplants. They were huge, and green, and glorious, with shiny, healthy, lustrous leaves. This was because, once a week, Crowley went around the flat with a green plastic plant mister spraying the leaves, and talking to the plants.... Although talking is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley did. What he did was put the fear of God into them. More precisely, the fear of Crowley. In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt, or browning, or just didn't look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the plants. "Say goodbye to your friend," he'd say to them. "He just couldn't cut it..." Then he would leave the flat with the offending plant, and return an hour or so later with a large empty flower pot, which he would leave somewhere conspicuously around the flat. The plants were the most luxurious, verdant, and beautiful in London. Also the most terrified. ↗

— Neil Gaiman

#houseplants #humor #beauty