1,147 Quotes About Sarcasm

Ignatov: "...History has shown charm to be the final ambition of the leisure class. What I do find surprising is that the author of the poem in question could have become a man so obviously without purpose. "Rostov: "I have lived under the impression that a man's purpose is known only to God."Ignatov: "Indeed. How convenient that must have been for you.

Work fast.""Yeah." I point at the screen. "First I have to wait for my computer to wake up.""Hurry.""Okay, I'll wait faster.""Sarcasm.

He stamps the cigarette out on the floor with his foot and says, “Sometimes I feel like I’m doing a really shitty job at being me.”I shrug and say, “There’s a rumor going around that no one’s perfect.”“So I heard.

Today had started with an urgent call from Sera and had so far contained nearly getting blown up by an Exitium mage, getting her knives filthy yet again, and now she had acquired four human ducklings that had imprinted on her. And the day wasn’t over yet. Briefly, she wondered when Big Foot would be making his appearance before binning the thought. With how things had gone so far, it wouldn’t surprise her if the myth actually showed up for no other reason than to hump her leg.

আমার দৃঢ় ধারণা ওর ভগবান ওকে সেই অনুমতি দেবেন না। এই সব ভগবান টগবানেরা অত্যন্ত ঈর্ষাপরায়ণ হয়।

Se davvero l'essere umano fosse stato creato da Dio" diceva mio marito, "credi che Dio si sarebbe inventato una cosa volgare come la merda? Non avrebbe trovato un altro metodo, uno che non comportasse gli esiti ripugnanti della digestione? La merda è una trovata così perversa che o Dio è un perverso oppure non esiste.

Know that by being too good in what you do, you're also doing a great job at making others look bad. And most people will hate you for it. This is the biggest downside of trying to be outstanding; of excelling. Can you blame why most of us want to remain mediocre?

You have to stop the Q-Tip when there is resistance

Abri a porta dos fundos e saí para o jardim. A grama parecia gelada debaixo dos meus dedos e o ar formigava minha pele. Milhões de estrelas cintilavam como as pedras do anel de casamento de Mamãe. Aposto como ela não o usa mais. Olhei para o céu e ergui o dedo médio, para o caso de Deus estar observando. Eu não gosto de ser espionado.