Best 243 quotes in «dark humor quotes» category

There was nothing worse, Veppers thought, than a loser who’d made it. It was just part of the way things worked – part of the complexity of life, he supposed – that sometimes somebody who absolutely deserved nothing more than to be one of the down-trodden, the oppressed, the dregs of society, lucked out into a position of wealth, power and admiration. At least people who were natural winners knew how to carry themselves in their pomp, whether their ascendancy had come through the luck of being born rich and powerful or the luck of being born ambitious and capable. Losers who’d made it always let the side down. Veppers was all for arrogance – he possessed the quality in full measure himself, as he’d often been informed – but it had to be deserved, you had to have worked for it. Or at the very least, an ancestor had to have worked for it. Arrogance without cause, arrogance without achievement – or that mistook sheer luck for true achievement – was an abomination. Losers made everybody look bad. Worse, they made the whole thing – the great game that was life – appear arbitrary, almost meaningless. Their only use, Veppers had long since decided, was as examples to be held up to those who complained about their lack of status or money or control over their lives: look, if this idiot can achieve something, so can anybody, so can you. So stop whining about being exploited and work harder. Still, at least individual losers were quite obviously statistical freaks. You could allow for that, you could tolerate that, albeit with gritted teeth. What he would not have believed was that you could find an entire society – an entire civilization– of losers who’d made it.

The world had been divided into two parts that sought to annihilate each other because they both desired the same thing, namely the liberation of the oppressed, the elimination of violence, and the establishment of permanent peace.

Things I Used to Get Hit For: Talking back. Being smart. Acting stupid. Not listening. Not answering the first time. Not doing what I’m told. Not doing it the second time I’m told. Running, jumping, yelling, laughing, falling down, skipping stairs, lying in the snow, rolling in the grass, playing in the dirt, walking in mud, not wiping my feet, not taking my shoes off. Sliding down the banister, acting like a wild Indian in the hallway. Making a mess and leaving it. Pissing my pants, just a little. Peeing the bed, hardly at all. Sleeping with a butter knife under my pillow. Shitting the bed because I was sick and it just ran out of me, but still my fault because I’m old enough to know better. Saying shit instead of crap or poop or number two. Not knowing better. Knowing something and doing it wrong anyway. Lying. Not confessing the truth even when I don’t know it. Telling white lies, even little ones, because fibbing isn’t fooling and not the least bit funny. Laughing at anything that’s not funny, especially cripples and retards. Covering up my white lies with more lies, black lies. Not coming the exact second I’m called. Getting out of bed too early, sometimes before the birds, and turning on the TV, which is one reason the picture tube died. Wearing out the cheap plastic hole on the channel selector by turning it so fast it sounds like a machine gun. Playing flip-and-catch with the TV’s volume button then losing it down the hole next to the radiator pipe. Vomiting. Gagging like I’m going to vomit. Saying puke instead of vomit. Throwing up anyplace but in the toilet or in a designated throw-up bucket. Using scissors on my hair. Cutting Kelly’s doll’s hair really short. Pinching Kelly. Punching Kelly even though she kicked me first. Tickling her too hard. Taking food without asking. Eating sugar from the sugar bowl. Not sharing. Not remembering to say please and thank you. Mumbling like an idiot. Using the emergency flashlight to read a comic book in bed because batteries don’t grow on trees. Splashing in puddles, even the puddles I don’t see until it’s too late. Giving my mother’s good rhinestone earrings to the teacher for Valentine’s Day. Splashing in the bathtub and getting the floor wet. Using the good towels. Leaving the good towels on the floor, though sometimes they fall all by themselves. Eating crackers in bed. Staining my shirt, tearing the knee in my pants, ruining my good clothes. Not changing into old clothes that don’t fit the minute I get home. Wasting food. Not eating everything on my plate. Hiding lumpy mashed potatoes and butternut squash and rubbery string beans or any food I don’t like under the vinyl seat cushions Mom bought for the wooden kitchen chairs. Leaving the butter dish out in summer and ruining the tablecloth. Making bubbles in my milk. Using a straw like a pee shooter. Throwing tooth picks at my sister. Wasting toothpicks and glue making junky little things that no one wants. School papers. Notes from the teacher. Report cards. Whispering in church. Sleeping in church. Notes from the assistant principal. Being late for anything. Walking out of Woolworth’s eating a candy bar I didn’t pay for. Riding my bike in the street. Leaving my bike out in the rain. Getting my bike stolen while visiting Grandpa Rudy at the hospital because I didn’t put a lock on it. Not washing my feet. Spitting. Getting a nosebleed in church. Embarrassing my mother in any way, anywhere, anytime, especially in public. Being a jerk. Acting shy. Being impolite. Forgetting what good manners are for. Being alive in all the wrong places with all the wrong people at all the wrong times.

Time becomes your enemy when you convince yourself it moves faster for you than anyone else.

The victim lay on his face, as most people did after being stuck with ten swords.

They condemn our town. Separate it from their own, where the same secrets pulse.

This isn't where I intended to be. Killing a person has a funny way of getting your life off-track. (Dark City Lights)

This isn't where I intended to be. Killing a person has a funny way of getting your life off-track.

This land does not go out of its way to provide happy endings

Try & try until you cannot succeed.

Today’s generation didn’t want to watch ancient actors reciting the same tired lines. They wanted to see themselves reflected onscreen –rude, raw, entitled. These kids needed to believe that they themselves were only one daring, controversial act away from being up on that screen themselves.

Two death sentences? Really? I mean, you look very well, considering.” Crane grinned at him. “One was in absentia. One wasn’t, and I spent three days in a condemned cell. I can’t recommend the experience.” “And—did you say a smuggler?” “That was what the death sentences were for.

Todo consistía en nacer, buscar algo que te diese el pan, seguir el instinto para reproducirse (instinto que además venía acompañado por la trampa del amor), envejecer y morir, dejando el sitio a otros. Nacíamos sobre las tumbas de los antepasados en espera de ser antepasados también, y fornicábamos juntos a los cementarios sabiendo que solo conseguiríamos una cosa: que los cementarios fueran más grandes.

(We had one guy who killed a woman and made meatloaf out of her.) And they interviewed the guy, George, and he was like, ‘Yeah, she was a pain in the ass and I beat her and, you know, I finally cracked her over the head and she died. I didn’t know what the hell to do with her. Well, Christ, George, I mean… Couldn’t ya—give her a Viking burial or something? You didn’t have to cook the poor woman down like Martha Stewart, for God’s sake. For meatloaf. I love meatloaf. I do. But I was off it for a long time after that.

Upstaged by a schizophrenic, Dallas said. The story of my life.

We live and we die and anything else is just delusion. it's just passive chick bullshit about feelings and sensitivity. Just made-up subjective emotional crap. There is no soul. There is no God. There's just decisions and disease and death.

When you get to Hell look for me; I'll be sitting in the hot-tub waiting." Cate Harlow FOR I HAVE SINNED by Kristen Houghton A Cate Harlow Private Investigation due out in August, 2014

When you look for these support groups, they all have vague upbeat names. My Thursday evening group for blood parasites, it's called Free and Clear.

Without a sense of humour one's wisdom is but a rumour.

Yet it seems like the more abuse I get, the more abuse I court - baring myself more extravagantly, processing opinions that I know will draw an onslaught - because, after all, if I've already adjusted my body temperature, why not face the blizzard so that other women don't have to freeze? Paradoxical undressing, I guess.

You are so beautiful, I could eat you,” he said. And it was true. Her smile was as intoxicating as the wine. And he could eat her.

You have really nice teeth,” Terry said and thought they could be excellent for his collection of human body parts.

You know, Mac,”Cadmus said still looking out the window. “We may have to work on the way we tell our story …apparently it’s not amusing enough.” “I’ll try to include a joke between ‘he bled to death’and ‘the city burned’.”Machaon responded tersely.

You know, it isn't considered necrophilia if you start when they're still alive.

You sick bastard,” she said. “Yes, I guess you could call me that." Terry replied.

You still are? There go my plans! And the suit I had bought to attend your funeral. Well, well. Anyway, do call me up when you an't.

We don't want your fucking tots and pears.

Well, fame is a drug and when you take it away from an addict, things can get ugly.

We’re all under the streetlamps, everyone’s the color of day-old piss. When I’m fifty, this is how I’ll remember my friends: tired and yellow and drunk.

What do you want to do now?" he asked her. "We should probably just kill ourselves," she imagined saying.

What Promise of a new day does one have to ignore to laugh so early in the morning?

When I arrived the News was three years old and Ed Lotterman was on the verge of a breakdown. To hear him talk you would think he'd been sitting at the very cross-corners of the earth, seeing himself as a combination of God, Pulitzer and the Salvation Army. He often swore that if all the people who had worked for the paper in those years could appear at one time before the throne of The Almighty--if they all stood there and recited their histories and their quirks and their crimes and their deviations--there was no doubt in his mind that God himself would fall down in a swoon and tear his hair.

When it started to climb between my legs, my balls and its claws only separated by a thin blanket, I sincerely considered throwing it (the cat, not my member) out of the window.

When it rains it pours and when it shines you get melanoma.

When Roy began to pace, smart people hid.

When your past shows up to haunt you, make sure it comes after supper so it doesn't ruin your whole day.

Wherever did they find you?" "At the junction of hard luck and bad times," I answer. It's something that my momma says.

Why am I tired of the Internet I have no friends here I write down words in my room For a thousand hours and no likes So, instead of the Internet I will make a little shop In an art gallery and tell no one In my dirty leopard coat it will be 1992 forever Burned out hamburger sign in the foreseeable distance

Why am I tried of the Internet I have no friends here I write down words in my room For a thousand hours and no likes So, instead of the Internet I will make a little shop In an art gallery and tell no one In my dirty leopard coat it will be 1992 forever Burned out hamburger sign in the foreseeable distance

Why the long face? Something happen?" "Nothing except my grandmother is still dead and my aunt moved to Sacramento and my sister just got out of a mental hospital." "Oh," Huey says. I spread my sack out, ready to load. Huey folds his handkerchief in half then in half again. I need him to check my count before I can go. "Which part of Sacramento," he says, and I shrug.

Wolves eat dogs." That did seem to be the consensus of the village, Arkady thought. Roman shook his head as if he'd given the matter a lot of consideration. "Wolves hate dogs. Wolves hunt down dogs because they regard them as traitors. If you think about it, dogs are dogs only because of humans; otherwise they'd all be wolves, right? And where will we be when all the dogs are gone? It will be the end of civilization.

You are fifty different kinds of twisted." "Only fifty? Val, you wound me.

-You give her a three, he said... -That three was entirely fitting, I said. It was complete garbage. Not the kind of thing I expect the students to hand in... In addition to the Second World War, I also deal with a large part of the history that came afterwards,’ I interrupted again. Korea, Vietnam, Kuwait, the Middle East and Israel, the Six-Day War, the Yom Kippur War, the Palestinians. I deal with all of that during my classes. So then you can’t expect to turn in a paper about the state of Israel in which people mostly pick oranges and dance in sandals around a campfire. Cheerful, happy people everywhere, and all that horseshit about the desert where flowers blossom again. I mean, people are shot and killed there every day, buses are blown up. What’s this all about? -She came in here crying, Paul. -I’d cry too if I turned in garbage like that.

Your own politicians make our Dr. Goebbels look like a child playing with picture books in a kindergarten. They speak of morality while they douse screaming children and old women in burning napalm. Your draft-resisters are called cowards and ‘peaceniks.’ For refusing to follow orders they are either put in jails or scourged from the country. Those who demonstrate against this country's unfortunate Asian adventure are clubbed down in the streets. The GI soldiers who kill the innocent are decorated by Presidents, welcomed home from the bayoneting of children and the burning of hospitals with parades and bunting. They are given dinners, Keys to the City, free tickets to pro football games.” He toasted his glass in Todd's direction. “Only those who lose are tried as war criminals for following orders and directives.

A blacksmith can go anywhere. A detective inspector only goes where the dead bodies are.” “But there aren’t any dead people here today.” Mina glanced over her shoulder at the chest Newberry carried. “That’s why I brought my own.

A few of the savage creatures (rabids) I could deal with, but taking on this many ventured very close to suicide. Once was enough, thanks

A flat screen television lowered into view. It showed an animated Islamic documentary that focused mostly on the importance of wearing the proper attire. The final prophet was quoted often, yet absent from the feature. “If this Mohammed guy is so great, why wouldn’t they put him in the cartoon?” Kira wondered.

After her declaration to become a ghost, her sister had given a nervous half-laugh and said that she didn't want Adelaide to do anything to scare her. Adelaide had agreed, but said she'd move things around her home just to confuse her. And laughed too. Her husband, Simon, had told her not to be morbid and reminded her that the consultant wasn't sure. It was possible she might live.

After the first week I knew every line, freckle and scar on his body. Some might call it obsessive. I called it having an attention to detail. I can't help it if I'm overly observant.

Ah, 6655321, think on the divine suffering. Meditate on that, my boy.' And all the time he had this rich manny von of Scotch on him, and then he went off to his little cantora to peet some more. So I read all about the scourging and the crowning with thorns and then the cross veshch and all that cal, and I viddied better that there was something in it. While the stereo played bits of lovely Bach I closed my glazzies and viddied myself helping in and even taking charge of the tolchocking and the nailing in, being dressed in a like toga that was the heighth of Roman fashion. So being in Staja 84F was not all that wasted, and the Governor himself was very pleased to hear that I had taken to like Religion, and that was where I had my hopes.