#y

Why is it suddenly uncool to spell? That's all I want to know. ↗

— MaryJanice Davidson

#queen-betsy #humor

How can we be alive and not wonder about the stories we knit together this place we call the world? Without stories our universe is merely rocks and clouds and lava and blackness. It's a village scraped raw by warm waters leaving not a trace of what existed before. ↗

— Douglas Coupland

#dry-humor #humor #humor

Not only is he mentally challenged, all he has is a couple of scary fangs and absolutely no idea what kind of fire is in this furnace. ↗

— Jayde Scott

#humor #jayde-scott #humor

I have an iron deficiency. You can tell by how wrinkled my clothes are.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#clue #clues #humor #insight #insightful

That's when it happens. Maybe it was my argument. Maybe it was my scary zeal. Whatever the reason, as soon as Megan whistles, the crowd is on its feet. They're blowing bubbles. They're raising their lighters high. They're cheering through their fangs... For Dawn Summers, for themselves and each other, for every sibling who got tossed into a situation beyond her control. For me. And for my sister, who whistles again... Once more with feeling. ↗

— Cynthia Leitich Smith

#dawn #humor #sweet #humor

Small town folk are so mannered towards sameness. City dwellers are so classy about Chinatown, Harlem, Greenwich Village. But suburbanites are the most tolerable of all: lacking either manners or culture, they just sprawl out in their four-bedroom, two child homes and close their doors to all the other four-bedroom, two-child homes. Suburbanites don’t abide, they abed, and we’re all abetter for it, since they don’t know how to say that they don’t have anything to say. ↗

— Benson Bruno

#humor #suburbs #funny

I didn't want readers to have to make allowances for what they couldn't see, but to be able to say to themselves that the fabric of the magic detailed was perfectly believable. ↗

— Terry Brooks

#allowances #believable #detailed #fabric #i

Enjoy yourselves. And Hap: Don't let Umber near the arrows and bows; he's liable to shoot himself in the nose." Dodd grinned and snapped the reins, and the carriage rolled away. Umber sniffed. "One of his lesser poems. Come, Hap. ↗

— P.W. Catanese

#poetry #humor

June: halfway towards the reiteration of a delusion. ↗

— Bauvard

#humor #new-years-resolution #funny

I'M SCOTTISH! ↗

— Elizabeth Wein

#english #funny #humor #scottish #funny