A Quote by Douglas Adams

Ford looked at him severely. And no sneaky knocking down Mr Dent's house whilst he's away, alright?" he said. The mere thought," growled Mr Prosser, "hadn't even begun to speculate," he continued, settling himself back, "about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.
The mere thought hadn't even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.
Mr. Crossley suddenly wondered why he was why he was worrying about the note. It was only a joke, after all. He cleared his throat. Everyone looked up hopefully. 'Somebody,' said Mr. Crossley, 'seems to have sent me a Halloween message.' And he read out the note: 'SOMEONE IN THIS CLASS IS A WITCH.' 6B thought this was splendid news. Hands shot up all over the room like a bed of beansprouts. 'It's me, Mr. Crossley!' 'Mr. Crossley, I'm the witch!' 'Can I be the witch, Mr. Crossley?' 'Me, Mr. Crossley, me, me, me!
Robert Mueller himself has perhaps the best and the cleanest reputation in all of official Washington. He is Mr. Integrity. He is Mr. Cultured. He is Mr. Mannered. He is Mr. Sophisticated. There isn't a soul in Washington who dares utter nary a negative word about Mueller.
MR.GOUDY: I believe you testified that you backed away from Aaron Wharton. MR.COGBURN: That is right. MR.GOUDY: You were backing away? MR.COGBURN: Yes sir. He had that ax raised. MR.GOUDY: Which direction were you going? MR.COGBURN: I always go backwards when I am backing up.
Mr L Prosser was, as they say, only human. In other words he was a carbon-based life form descended from an ape. More specifically he was forty, fat and shabby and worked for the local council. Curiously enough, though he didn't know it, he was also a direct male-line descendant of Genghis Khan, though intervening generations and racial mixing had so juggled his genes that he had no discernible Mongoloid characteristics, and the only vestiges left in Mr L Prosser of his mighty ancestry were a pronounced stoutness about the tum and a predilection for little fur hats.
Mr Beach was too well bred to be inquisitive, but his eyebrows here not. 'Ah!' he said. '?', cried the eyebrows. '? ? ?' Ashe ignored the eyebrows. ... Mr Beach's eyebrows were still mutely urging him to reveal all, but Ashe directed his gaze at that portion of the room which Mr Beach did not fill. He was hanged if he was going to let himself be hypnotized by a pair of eyebrows into incriminating himself.
I don't think," he said, "that a vicar is supposed to beat a bishop to death, or even back to death." Mr. Berkeley looked down upon the remains of Bishop Bernard. "If anyone asks, we'll say he fell over," he said. "Lots of times.
Enjoying it? I don’t reckon he’d come home if Dad didn’t make him. He’s obsessed. Just don’t get him on the subject of his boss. According to Mr. Crouch…as I was saying to Mr. Crouch… Mr. Crouch is of the opinion… Mr. Crouch was telling me… They’ll be announcing their engagement any day now.
There's a theory that nobody believes. That Robert Mueller is Mr. Honest and Mr. Integrity, has no preconceived notion and is really gonna look to find what happened in White House and whatever he finds is what he's gonna tell us. That's the thing that you would associate with Mr. Integrity, with Mr. Honesty, with Mr. Character, is the last thing anybody thinks is gonna happen.
Robert Mueller, as Mr. Honest and as Mr. Sophisticated and as Mr. Integrity, as Mr. Cultured, as Mr. Elite, as Mr. Mannered knows full well there's nothing here, knows that there is no collusion, knows that there is no obstruction of justice, knows that if anybody is working with the Russians, it was not Donald Trump.
You had a package. It was torn, so I looked in.” She lifted one of a stack of firefighter calendars, with his own mug and half-naked body on the cover. “Nice,” she said, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips. “Mr. 2008.” He bit back a sigh. “It’s for charity.” “And you definitely contributed.
He almost said to himself that he did not like her, before their conversation ended; he tried so hard to compensate himself for the mortified feeling, that while he looked upon her with an admiration he could not repress, she looked at him with proud indifference, taking him, he thought, for what, in his irritation, he told himself - was a great fellow, with not a grace or a refinement about him.
Mr. Harinton was real. There were adults in the world who would actually make sacrifices for others - not just for their own families but for anyone who needed help. Nicholas had always had the impression that families looked after one another, and he had come to understand that, on rare ocassions, children would do the same... But this was different. What Mr. Harinton was doing certainly helped Nicolas - but it also simply felt right to Nicholas. It made him want to be exactly like Mr. Harinton himself.
His [Pitt's] successor as prime minister was Mr. Addington, who was a friend of Mr. Pitt, just as Mr. Pitt was a friend of Mr. Addington; but their respective friends were each other's enemies. Mr. Fox, who was Mr. Pitt's enemy (although many of his friends were Mr. Pitt's friends), had always stood uncompromisingly for peace with France and held dangerously liberal opinions; nevertheless, in 1804, Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt got together to overthrow Mr. Pitt's friend Mr. Addington, who was pushing the war effort with insufficient vigor.
I hope people have pulled something about me and said "Hey Mr. T loves his mother, hey Mr. T ain't no dummy, hey Mr. T never grabbed his crotch," when you're talking about Hip-Hop culture.
The gym teacher's name was Mr. Caruso. Mr. Caruso did not speak English. He spoke 'Gym.' One day I was playing basketball and Mr. Caruso told me I would have to get an athletic supporter. He didn't express himself exactly that way, though. He said, 'Hey, you, one day you're gonna go up for a rebound and the family jewels aren't gonna go with ya.' I had no idea what he was talking about. Next day I showed up for practice without my watch and my mezuzah. He said, 'Did ya take care of the family jewels?' I said, 'I left 'em in my locker.' Took us a half hour to revive Mr. Caruso.
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