Who the hell do you think you're, Kiddo?
I don't do thinking, Sir. I simply improvise.
Stichwörter: insult humiliation
The man is as useless as nipples on a breastplate.
George R.R. MartinStichwörter: simile witty insult
If I say you're a goatherd's son, you say, 'Yes, Lord Ralon.'"
Alanna gasped with fury. "I'd as soon kiss a pig! Is that what you've been doing-kissing pigs? Or being kissed?
Stichwörter: humor anger pigs insult ammusing
Let me tell you, my girl, that I'm swallowing no more of your insults! And if I hear another word from you in disparagement of the Corinthian set it will be very much the worse for you!
Georgette HeyerStichwörter: insult corinthians
If you can't say anything nice, at least have the decency to be vague.
Susan AndersenStichwörter: insult compliment
Never use a big word when a little filthy one will do.
Johnny CarsonStichwörter: language profanity insult insulting pomposity cursing
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Simply minding one's own business is more offensive than being intrusive. Without ever saying a word one can make a person feel less-than.
Criss JamiStichwörter: hate communication selfish arrogance pride business egotism insult superiority inferiority body-language offensive cocky silence-communication nonexistent
Lemme take your picture! You fucking bok gwai low got a face carved out of rotten potato cured in dogshit, runover with a towtruck driven by Hellen Keller in a puke fit on pills...
Frank ChinIf I were you,
And you were I,
I would kill myself,
But you would die!
Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.
Even now I curse the day—and yet, I think,
Few come within the compass of my curse,—
Wherein I did not some notorious ill,
As kill a man, or else devise his death,
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,
Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,
Set deadly enmity between two friends,
Make poor men's cattle break their necks;
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,
And bid the owners quench them with their tears.
Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,
And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,
'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'
Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more.
Stichwörter: evil speech insult taunt monologue brag villain final-words moor gallows
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