Quotes about snark

Spike (to Giles) : Oh, poor Watcher. Did your life pass before your eyes — 'Cuppa tea, cuppa tea... almost got shagged... cuppa tea'?

And pictures of perfection, as you know, make me sick and wicked.

What do you want, MacGuffin, a duel?”“No.” Julian held out both hands, one palm flat, the other held over it in a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors. Two out of three.”Ty rolled his eyes and held out his fist, apparently willing to play. Julian hit his palm three times, and Ty kept time with his fist in the air. But when Julian threw a paper, Ty reached into his jacket with his other hand and pulled his gun, aiming it at Julian.“Ty!” Zane said in exasperation from the front seat.“Glock, paper, scissor

If the apocalypse comes...beep me!

Gabi glared. "If you want to add some variety to your sex life, why don't you just use your other hand?

Rumors had their own classic epidemiology. Each started with a single germinating event. Information spread from that point, mutating and interbreeding—a conical mass of threads, expanding into the future from the apex of their common birthplace. Eventually, of course, they'd wither and die; the cone would simply dissipate at its wide end, its permutations senescent and exhausted.There were exceptions, of course. Every now and then a single thread persisted, grew thick and gnarled and unkillable

You didn’t feed from her,” he said, and this was not a question.“Swill poison? Not my kind of fun, little brother.”One corner of Stefan’s mouth quirked up. He made no response to this, but simply looked at Damon with eyes that were... knowing. Damon bridled.“I told the truth!”“Going to take it up as a hobby?

The following Discourse [on art, by Sir Joshua Reynolds] is particularly Interesting to Blockheads as it endeavours to prove that There is No such thing as Inspiration & that any Man of a plain Understanding may by Thieving from Others become a Mich Angelo.

Boys", Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, "being quiet is an important part of sneaking.""Oh, sorry", Xander said, reducing his voice to a whisper."Besides, ritual sacrifice is a religious rite", Giles went on quietly. "They wouldn't sacrifice just anyone at random. It's far more likely they'd suspect you of being a Roman spy scouting for the invasion and just outright kill you"."Oh great! Great! Way to be encouraging Giles. And I suppose you'll just watch that happen, in your Watchery way.

The day you ever have that much control over my behavior, it will be because somebody's asking you, should she get the pine box or a plain white shroud?

Like most people raised on American movies, I have poor access to my emotions, but can banter like a motherfucker.

Look, this is helping me out quite a bit, but could you just get to the punishment part? We're at the end of World War Two in history, and I can't wait to find out who wins.

Carla was wearing a No Fear sweatshirt. You are too old, Amy wanted to tell her, for legible clothing.

Ignore the reek of feces in the air, the bloodstains on the ground, and you have yourself a glorious night.

You’ve missed a lot of things. But mostly I think you’ve missed several opportunities to leave. Let me assist you to the door so that you won’t miss this next one.

I understand that you don’t want to marry me,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know why, since I’m simply delightful to be around. But to each his own taste.

He's asleep in the harbor, disguised as dog shit.

Sorry, one night stands don't stack up as credentials for tending bar.

Whatever crimes this man had committed, they weren't as egregious as his inflated self-image.

Ah, Proph." Tom paused. "You did have a nightmare last night.""And here I thought maybe I dreamed it," Prophet muttered sarcastically.

We don't have dealings. He just stalks me. I'm popular like that.

A lot of people have it in for me. It's practically a school sport.

I'm sorry I missed the meeting and hurt your little feely-weels okay?

Hello, Mrs. Tran...I have David's homework. And if you ever want to see it again, you'll pay me the two million dollars I asked for.

Cleverness is like rouge - liberal application makes a woman look common and desperate. Wit is knowing how to apply it.

You don't have to make fun of it.""Actually I do," I said. "I make fun of almost everything.

You will never find me in trouble. You will find me in the library. If you can remember where that is.

My dominant (no pun intended) discourse seems to be needy as fuck.

Snark often functions as an enforcer of mediocrity and conformity. In its cozy knowingness, snark flatters you by assuming that you get the contemptuous joke. You've been admitted, or readmitted, to a club, though it may be the club of the second-rate.

True cynics kill themselves. The rest are posers, trying to use clever sarcasm and snarky remarks to hide insecurity and the fear that if they put themselves out there, they will fail.

Miss Fitt, you know curiosity gets men killed."I grinned. "Then I daresay it's good I'm a woman.

He was my age and in my imagination he was a fireman, not the kind that actually fights fires but the kind who travels the country shirtless posing for calendars.

That's my girl," he murmured."I'm not your girl.""Well," he said not bothering to hide his smile from her sightless eyes, "the good news is that the honey gave you back your sparkling personality.""And the bad news?""The honey gave you back your sparkling personality.

The guy had guts—I had to give him that. Later on I was hoping for a first-hand look at them.

My inner goddess confirms that staring at a beautiful/rich/powerful face is the basis of True Love.

Do you know where Jason is?” she asked Dmitri when they exited the morgue. Dmitri pressed the car remote to unlock the flame red Ferrari parked in the employees-only lot. “Tired of your Bluebell already?” A tendril of champagne circled around her senses, cut with something far harder. Never had she felt that harsh edge in Dmitri’s scent. She pitied the woman he took to his bed today.“Yeah, that’s it. I’m building a harem.

I always wonder why condescending snarkiness is the chosen method of communication for so many forum users. It seems to me like these things would be much better expressed in non-confrontational, polite manner.

John: I'm experiencing an odd sensation. I think it might be patriotism.Spitfire: Steady. Too much of that can damage your health.

People who use snark attacks confuse cleverness with cruelty.

I could help you,” I said. “Counseling, drugs, a religious advisor, a girlfriend.

Are you telling me Kara Orris is afraid of rain?” Hunter’s grin twisted into a smirk as his eyes lit up, relishing his new discovery with absolute delight. “Why, that’s adorable!

...It was borne in upon her audience that the outside of Jane's charming head was distinctly superior to the inside.

If there’s any greater exhibit of the malleability of human nature than the sight of someone standing, absently waiting for the light to change at a deserted intersection, I don’t know what it is.

I prefer to make up my own quotes and attribute them to very smart people, so that I can use them to win arguments

How bad do you want cancer? Bad enough to eat a rainbow of it? Personally, I think the red cancer would be the worst, but anything you swallow with artificial hues in it is going to pop a tumor out of your body the day after you eat it.

Sherrie would be there, and the last time I’d seen her at a social event she burst into tears when she saw me and ran out of the room. You’re upset, I’d yelled after her, meanly.

The trouble with today's snarky pipsqueaks who break off a sentence or two, or who write a couple of mean paragraphs, is that they don't go far enough; they don't have a coherent view of life. Spinning around in the media from moment to moment, they don't stand for anything, push for anything; they're mere opportunists without dedication, and they don't win any victories.

If God gave Dad Alzheimer’s, He’s got to understand when Dad forgets what church he belongs to.

The jury’s still out on your level of intellect. After all, you signed up with Evil Incorporated in the first place.

How many kids are in the Graveyard?""A bunch.""Who sends your supplies?""George Washington. Or is it Abraham Lincoln? I forget.""How often do you receive new arrivals?""About as often as you beat your wife.

Flirt with the old ladies and you’ll be fine,” I muttered, shoving my stuff into the cubby. He hung his green hoodie on the hooks right beside me. “Is that how you get by?” “Doesn’t work on the old ladies for me, but the old men on the other hand?” I paused and glanced at my nails. “Yeah, doesn’t work on them either.

It’s like people immediately imagine me sitting in some gothic, sweeping castle in Edinburgh, a piece of fine bone china full of English tea next to my neat writing station. They think that my car, my purse, my everything was financed by my lucrative but somehow not too time consuming writing career. I’ve even had one guy ask me if my hand cramps at signings. While I wanted to give a snarky, “Yes, just like Tom Brady’s does,” I can’t pull off snarky. My sarcasm immediately goes into b**ch territ

He shakes his head and his mouth is quirked at one corner. I can't tell if he thinks I am sort of amusing or truly pathetic. It's especially hard to tell because we are both looking resolutely at the teacher so she can't accuse us of not paying attention. We talk out of the sides of our mouths, like gangsters in those old movies my dad likes to watch.

Your powers of observation are formidable," Michael says and Darien giggles behind one perfectly manicured hand, like some sort of preppie geisha.

I suppose I look acceptable, the black (haired) sheep among the Barrett blondes.

As a gentleman- assuming you still have some pretensions in that direction- of honor- again, perhaps presumptuous, but still supposing your passing acquaintance with the concept- it is your duty- I won't even trouble to speculate here, but remain naively hopeful- to protect those under your care.