Who the hell do you think you're, Kiddo?
I don't do thinking, Sir. I simply improvise.
Tag: insult humiliation
The man is as useless as nipples on a breastplate.
George R.R. MartinIf 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?
Tag: 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 HeyerTag: insult corinthians
If you can't say anything nice, at least have the decency to be vague.
Susan AndersenTag: insult compliment
Never use a big word when a little filthy one will do.
Johnny CarsonTag: language profanity insult insulting pomposity cursing
Mostra la citazione in tedesco
Mostra la citazione in francese
Mostra la citazione in italiano
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 JamiTag: 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.
Tag: evil speech insult taunt monologue brag villain final-words moor gallows
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