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Perhaps the way to succeed is to think of life on Earth as a colossal joke, a creation of such immense stupidity that the only way to live is to laugh until you think your heart will break.
Laugh at love and love will make you cry.
Wow,” Kylie muttered, and grinned. “Yeah, wow.” Della leaned in closer. “I think Perry just grew a pair.” Kylie bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. “If this was a movie, there would be some music playing in the background.” “I could sing,” Della chuckled. “And ruin it,” Kylie teased back. “I’ve heard you singing in the shower.” Both grinning, they looked back at the kissing couple.
Do me a favor?” he whispered. Beth's hold tightened on his hand. ”Anything, what do you need?” ”Hum the Jeopardy theme.” There was a pause.Then Beth burst out laughing and swatted his shoulder. ”Wrath-” ”Actually,take your clothes off and hum it while doing some belly grooves.” As his shellan bent down and kissed his forehead, he looked up at her through his wraparounds. ”You think I'm kidding? Come on, we both need the distraction. And I promise I'll tip well” "You never carry cash." He extended his tongue and swept it over his upper lip. "I plan on working it off.
I suppose if we couldn't laugh at things that don't make sense, we couldn't react to a lot of life.
He smiles in my memory. A curled lip. Straight teeth. Light in his eyes. Laughing, teasing, more alive in memory than I m in reality. It was him or me. I chose me. But I feel dead too.
Afterward I told his widow, "Your husband is dead, but at least he died laughing.' I think she took some comfort in that. It is the second-best way to die, Will Henry." He did not say what the best way was.
That’s just the kind of thing that kids do to each other. It’s no big deal. There’s always going to be a person laughing and somebody getting laughed at. It happens every day, in every school, in every town in America—probably in the world, for all I know. The whole point of growing up is learning to stay on the laughing side.
I asked my schoolmate Mary to write a letter to me. She was funny and full of life. She liked to run around her empty house without any clothes on, even once she was too old for that. Nothing embarrassed her. I admired that so much, because everything embarrassed me, and that hurt me. She loved to jump on her bed. She jumped on her bed for so many years that one afternoon, while I watched her jump, the seams burst. Feathers filled the small room. Our laughter kept the feathers in the air. I thought about birds. Could they fly if there wasn’t someone, somewhere, laughing?
It's much easier to write a solemn book than a funny book. It's harder to make people laugh than it is to make them cry. People are always on the verge of tears.
It is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet when King Laugh come he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts, and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall -- all dance together to the music that he make with that smileless mouth of him.
You laugh, but you haven't seen me in a tux. Or maybe you don't like broad-shouldered guys with muscular chest and washboard abs?
she would die as she had lived, with an axe in her hand and a laugh upon her lips.
No, my young apprentice. You said the exact right thing. Again. I'm just laughing at life." "Why?" he asked, opening both his eyes. "Because sometimes it's either laugh or cry. I prefer laugh. How about you?
Jeez, Hazel," Percy said, "tell your horse to watch his language." Hazel tried not to laugh. "What did he say?" "With the cussing removed? He said he can get us to the top." Frank looked incredulous. "I thought the horse couldn't fly!" This time Arion whinnied so angrily, even Hazel could guess he was cursing. "Dude," Percy told the horse, "I've gotten suspended for saying less than that.
Tyson, Frank is a descendant of Poseidon." "Brother!" Tyson crushed Frank in a hug. Percy stifled a laugh. "Actually he's more like a great-great-...Oh, never mind. Yeah, he's your brother." "Thanks." Frank mumbled through a mouthful of flannel.
The highlight of my childhood was making my brother laugh so hard that food came out of his nose.
I don't have to come up with a ha-ha belly laugh every day, but drawings with warmth and love or ones that put a lump in the throat. That's more important to me than a laugh.
Many of my cartoons are not a belly laugh. I go for nostalgia, the lump in the throat, the tear in the eye, the tug in the heart.
I just want real reactions. I want people to laugh from the gut, be sad from the gut - or get angry from the gut.
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