A Quote by Manfred von Richthofen

English had hit upon a splendid joke. The intended to catch me or to bring me down. — © Manfred von Richthofen
English had hit upon a splendid joke. The intended to catch me or to bring me down.
The English had hit upon a splendid joke. They intended to catch me or to bring me down.
As far as outlining is concerned, I don't outline humor. I might right down a word or two to remind myself of a punch line I thought of, but the actual structure of a piece I really don't. I don't think it would really help me because for me the process is joke, joke, joke, joke.
In 2004 in England, there was one catch that was very special to me. I was bowling in a league match, and the batsman hit the ball over my head. I had to run back to between mid-off and mid-on to take the catch, and I did.
Once he had selected the path he was going down he really had to stick with it in a 16 game match. He had to try and hit in the one direction but unfortunately for him - though fortunately for me! - he hit in the wrong direction.
Pitchers did me a favor when they knocked me down. It made me more determined. I wouldn't let that pitcher get me out. They say you can't hit if you're on your back, but I didn't hit on my back. I got up.
A joke bombing on stage doesn't bother me, especially if it's intended to bomb.
I had an awful joke about Auschwitz I drove everybody crazy with that joke. But that joke makes me feel good. You know what "cuit" means? When something is cooked. It's a joke like that: "What are the birds doing when they fly over Auschwitz? 'Cuit! Cuit!'" It's awful, but it's desacralizing. For me, it's good.
Homework's hard. Especially math. My kids joke with me. They tell me they have homework. I say, 'Okay.' And then I sit down and they say, 'It's math.' 'No! Not math! English, history, anything!'
Derek lunged. He hit me in the shoulder and knocked me to the floor, landing on top of me. His body jerked, like he'd been hit with the spell, and I let out a yelp, struggling to get up, but he held me down, whispering "I'm okay, it's okay" until the words penetrated.
That's what stock-car racing is. You hit someone, or you get hit. That's something I had to learn. It's a key factor in why I'm so aggressive. I don't want to have to hit you. But if you're going to hit me, I'm going to hit you.
When I fought Montell Griffin, he quit on me, on the floor, I hit him with a soft punch and he laid down like I knocked him out, and it kinda upset me. I told him I don't care what it is, just give me the rematch. And then I really had to teach him the difference between acting like you've been knocked out, and getting hit for real.
When I was 7, an old lady was driving too fast in my neighborhood and hit me with her car. I was running out of the house, and when I got halfway into the street, my mom saw the car and yelled for me to run back. As I turned around the car hit me, dragged me five houses down the road, and I fractured my collarbone.
Earnie hit me harder than any other fighter, including Mike Tyson. He hit me and I was face down on the canvas hearing saxophonist Jimmy Tillis.
If I were a Chinese dissident, I'd be grateful that Cisco had helped bring the Internet to China, but I'd also be outraged that Cisco may have helped the cops keep me under surveillance and catch me trying to organize protest activities.
Bring me my bow of burning gold: Bring me my arrows of desire: Bring me my spear: O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire.
He had seen me several times, and had intended to call on me long before, but a peculiar combination of circumstances had prevented it.
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