Quotes: 17 total. 4 About.
Sorted by: Search Results (Descending)
|Words (count)||81||7 - 270|
|Search Results||46||10 - 290|
|Date (year)||1854||1552 - 1998|
• Clowning Quotes About 215 quotes
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• Entertaining Quotes About 145 quotes
• Facetious Quotes About 11 quotes
• Farcical Quotes About 25 quotes
• Funny Quotes About 618 quotes
• Hilarious Quotes About 35 quotes
• Humor Quotes About 510 quotes
• Hysterical Quotes About 77 quotes
• Jest Quotes About 225 quotes
• Jocose Quotes About 1 quotes
• Jocular Quotes About 9 quotes
• Jocund Quotes About 18 quotes
• Joke Quotes About 593 quotes
• Jovial Quotes About 18 quotes
• Kooky Quotes About 3 quotes
• Ludicrous Quotes About 87 quotes
• Merry Quotes About 287 quotes
• Mirth Quotes About 171 quotes
• Rib-tickling Quotes About 1 quotes
• Riotous Quotes About 28 quotes
• Risible Quotes About 5 quotes
• Scintillating Quotes About 6 quotes
• Silly Quotes About 361 quotes
• Slapstick Quotes About 3 quotes
• Uproarious Quotes About 6 quotes
• Wacky Quotes About 5 quotes
• Waggish Quotes About 2 quotes
• Witty Quotes About 114 quotes
• Zany Quotes About 10 quotes
"And here you are, stuck at the bottom of a hole. How droll. It's really too bad- we could have had so much fun together."
My wife gave him some Swiss cheese and rye bread for lunch, which he greatly liked. Thereafter he more or less insisted on eating bread and cheese at all meals, largely ignoring the various dishes that my wife prepared. Wittgenstein declared that it did not much matter to him what he ate, so long as it always remained the same. When a dish that looked especially appetizing was brought to the table, I sometimes exclaimed "Hot Ziggety!" — a slang phrase that I learned as a boy in Kansas. Wittgenstein picked up this expression from me. It was inconceivably droll to hear him exclaim "Hot Ziggety!" when my wife put the bread and cheese before him.
The proverbial German phenomenon of the verb-at-the-end about which droll tales of absentminded professors who would begin a sentence, ramble on for an entire lecture, and then finish up by rattling off a string of verbs by which their audience, for whom the stack had long since lost its coherence, would be totally nonplussed, are told, is an excellent example of linguistic recursion.
Alonso: Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?
Sebastian: A living drollery. Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.
Antonio: I'll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me,
And I'll be sworn 'tis true; travellers ne'er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn 'em.
That fatal drollery called a representative government.
Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
That Swinburne was altogether new to the three types of men-of-the-world before him; that he seemed to them quite original, wildly eccentric, astonishingly gifted, and convulsingly droll, Adams could see; but what more he was, even Milnes hardly dared say. They could not believe his incredible memory and knowledge of literature, classic, mediaeval, and modern; his faculty of reciting a play of Sophocles or a play of Shakespeare, forward or backward, from end to beginning; or Dante, or Villon, or Victor Hugo.
Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
Don Chaucer, well of English undefyled On Fame's eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
I never make moral judgments. All I would say is that a person was droll, or gay, or, above all, a bore. Making judgments for or against my characters bores me enormously; it doesn’t interest me at all. The only morality for a novelist is the morality of his esthétique.
Tourists came around and looked into our tipis. That those were the homes we choose to live in did not bother them at all. They untied the door, opened the flap, and barged right in, touching our things, poking through our bedrolls, inspecting everything. It boggles my mind that tourists feel they have the god-given right to intrude everywhere.
People who intuitively perceive 2,500-year-old Chinese and Greek concepts, while nodding to California's detached hippie philosophy and quoting droll lines from The Big Lebowski, which turns 15 this year, are joining a revelatory religion that has illuminated its U.S. founder in northern Thailand. Dubbed "Church of the Latter-Day Dude," the group also invites "mellow, unflashy chicks who hang around in their bathrobes and take baths with candles and whale sounds," says the religion's Dudely Lama, Oliver Benjamin.
My dad was great. He was very droll, very dry. The first time that he came to London when I was in the theatre and my name was in lights for the very first time and we had the same name, and he passed the theatre with me on the way, he was going to see a matinee and me, and my mother and he passed the theatre, and I said, 'Look,' and he looked up at my name in lights, and stood there for five minutes, and I'm going, 'I want to have lunch and get back for the matinee,' and I'm with my mother, and he still stood there and so, I went back to get him and he just said, 'I never thought that I'd see my name in lights.'
Some years ago, many problems encountered by system developers were brought together in a pithy book by John Gall called Systemantics (Gall 1975). The book applies equally to computer systems and to the encompassing systems of coordinated human enterprise. The book's style is droll but its purpose is serious; it should be required reading. Among the many important rules and admonitions the book advances are several worth repeating here for anyone contemplating biodiversity information systems development: A complex system that works is invariably found to have evolved from a simple system that worked A complex system designed from scratch never works and cannot be made to work. You have to start over, beginning with a working simple system In setting up a system, tread softly. You may be disturbing another system that is actually working A system can fail in an infinite number of ways In complex systems malfunction and even total nonfunction may not be detectable for a long period, if ever
Humor is properly the exponent of low things; that which first renders them poetical to the mind. The man of Humor sees common life, even mean life, under the new light of sportfulness and love ; whatever has existence has a charm for him. Humor has justly been regarded as the finest perfection of poetic genius. He who wants it, be his other gifts what they may, has only half a mind; an eye for what is above him, not for what is about him or below him. Now, among all writers of any real poetic genius, we cannot recollect one who, in this respect, exhibits such total deficiency as Schiller. In his whole writings there is scarcely any vestige of it, scarcely any attempt that way. His nature was without Humor; and he had too true a feeling to adopt any counterfeit in its stead. Thus no drollery or caricature, still less any barren mockery, which, in the hundred cases are all that we find passing current as Humor, discover themselves in Schiller. His works are full of labored earnestness; he is the gravest of all writers.
Could Keely Garfield be the Kate Bush of downtown dance? The question is raised by “Wow,” the bizarre, hilarious, enthralling, confounding and cathartic new work that Ms. Garfield presented on Thursday at Danspace Project. Surely it is the recent comeback tour of Ms. Bush that has put that singer-songwriter on Ms. Garfield’s mind. But it is “Wow” that suggests the comparison: two British-born women, intensely idiosyncratic and theatrical with outlandish taste in costumes, who follow their imaginations uninhibitedly. The salient difference would seem to be irony. Much of Ms. Bush’s power stems from her absolute sincerity, the sense that she is unaware that anyone might find what she’s doing ridiculous. But Ms. Garfield has always been wry, droll, deadpan. Her assertion in a program note that she meant “Wow” to be “entirely sincere without a hint of irony or cleverness” cannot and should not be taken as entirely sincere. The program also credits Matthew Brookshire with “music inspired by the poetry of Kate Bush.” What we actually hear, though, are Kate Bush songs. Some are played in the original recordings, some chopped up and looped, but most are performed live by the marvelous Mr. Brookshire, on vocals and piano, joined by Ms. Garfield and her four terrific dancers. The arrangements are stripped down and seductively vibrant. Some lyrics are recited in a manner between sports cheer and Greek chorus. Some singsongy melodies are swapped for the tunes of actual nursery rhymes. Ms. Garfield, in other words, does not shy from the naïveté of her material. Much of her choreography illustrates the lyrics literally, in the manner of a children’s pageant.