Best 243 quotes in «dark humor quotes» category

Moreover, man carries in his heart the desire always to wield his scientific knowledge in service of the greater good. He would of course never use it for destructive purposes. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! ...

Most people don't understand what humor is. They think it's something lighthearted and cheerful. Like 'good humor.' But it isn't. It's looking into the darkness and spitting at it with a joke. Humor is dark. Humor is that we're all going to die.

Mr. Bingley observed the desserts his poor servants had been attending to at the time of their demise - a delightful array of tarts, exotic fruits and pies, sadly soiled by blood and brains, and thus unusable.

Mr Cjelli, nice to see you back, sir. Sorry you had a spot of bother, hope that's all behind you now." "Indeed, Bill, it is. You find me thriving. And Mrs Roberts? How is she? Foot still troubling her?" "Not since she had it off, thanks for asking, sir. Between you and me, sir, I would've been just as happy to have had her amputated and kept the foot. I had a little spot reserved on the mantelpiece, but there we are, we have to take things as we find them." (...) "...thank you, and my best to what remains of Mrs Roberts.

My friend died doing what he loved ... Heroin.

My parents watch too many soap operas, that's their trouble. In fact, they were probably hoping I was pregnant. By my wicked married lover whom they could then murder and bury under the patio.

My wife was rather surprised when it was the platter that shattered, not my face.” - Zevryn the Everborn

Never a good sign, he thought, when the crows showed up.

Nothing can unman you like an un-man.

Now, I did know a certain young lady of the 'romantic' generation of not so long ago who, after being mysteriously in love for several years with a certain gentleman whom she could have married at any time without the least difficulty, suddenly broke off their relationship, inventing for herself all manner of insurmountable obstacles, and one stormy night plunged from a high, precipitous cliff into a fairly deep and fast-flowing river, where she perished from her own caprice solely through her attempt to imitate Shakespeare's Ophelia, for, had the precipice, which she had long before singled out and been compulsively drawn to, been less picturesque, and had there been only a prosaically flat bank in its stead, perhaps there would have been no suicide at all.

Now that I've declared my religion, namely, NUTTISM; I anoint myself, Mr. NUTS, as its MESSIAH. And you damn well bow to our god, Mr. NOT. He reveals that your pal up there too is naught! Dare not criticize the messiah - me! Or you'll be kicked in the nuts by my pal Mr. NOT.

Oh hell, yeah! It is rather good to be un-dead. You my dear friend, are welcome to be otherwise instead.

Oh get over it Cecilia! You are no longer human. Such decorum doesn’t exist amongst our kind

Oh, precious losing streak, you're too cute for your own good. I try to laugh about it but my face is made of wood.

Morse found it nerve-wracking to cross the St. Jude grounds just as school was being dismissed, because he felt that if he smiled at the uniformed Catholic children they might think he was a wacko or pervert and if he didn't smile they might think he was an old grouch made bitter by the world, which surely, he felt, by certain yardsticks, he was. Sometimes he wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't a wacko of sorts, although certainly he wasn't a pervert. Of that he was certain. Or relatively certain. Being overly certain, he was relatively sure, was what eventually made one a wacko. So humility was the thing, he thought, arranging his face into what he thought would pass for the expression of a man thinking fondly of his own youth, a face devoid of wackiness or perversion, humility was the thing.

„Nu e mare lucru să scrii. Nu faci decât să stai jos în fața unei mașini de scris și să sângerezi.

Ordinarily, anyone who made such a remark to my face would go to the top of my short list for strychnine.

[Or perhaps my friends should have realized that they shouldn't have left behind the FRICKING REASON FOR THEIR PROTEST! And that thought just cracked me up.] It was like my friends had walked over the backs of baby seals in order to get to the beach where they could protest against the slaughter of baby seals.

On a supra human level, yeah, I got That Which Is. Yet on a simple human level, rare are times when either my left or my right foot is not in some kind of shit.

Personligt kan jeg kun forestille mig én ting, der er endnu værre (end at have venner): familien. Gudskelov befinder jeg mig i den gunstige situation, at jeg ingen familie har.

Please pardon me if I have somehow overlooked you. Normally I am rather conscientious about all jokes. I apologize if I have yet not gotten to you. I will, soon. So, please don't lose faith in me. Or my jokes.

Please, please be some sex-starved nutcase who wants to kidnap me and make me your love slave, I begged silently.

Quindi passeremo direttamente al massacro." - "Che modo abile di esprimersi, Narasan.

Rap un zeal' Demon within. I might as well put up a giant 'Come and Get Eaten' sign for the good those warning runes do.

Russian stories never have happy endings.

School never teaches you about this mangled human slime, it slays me. You spend all your time learning the capital of Surinam while these retards carve their initials in your back.

Saturday, July 2, 2016 1:51 PM "One ancient retired Air Force nurse does nothing but scream 'Help!' for hours at a time from a second-story window. Since the Ennet House residents are drilled in a Boston-AA recovery program that places great emphasis on 'Asking For Help,' the retired shrieking Air Force nurse is the object of a certain grim amusement, sometimes. Not six weeks ago, a huge stolen HELP WANTED sign was found attached to #4's siding right below the retired shrieking nurse's window, and #4's director was less than amused, …

One time, she waddled out and showed Peg her bandages from her last suicide attempt, which invokes sympathy in some, but usually makes me imagine someone holding out a pile of dog shit and saying "Look what I almost stepped in!

She doesn't seem deranged to me?

Shut up,” I snapped. “This is not the time. What part of this situation seems like a joke to you?” Lohka pulled up his knees, giving a feeble, half-manic little laugh. “Oh, maybe just the idea that some soul-devouring being of chaos could be waiting anywhere to finish destroying my life,” he said. “That’s kind of hilarious, you know. Have you ever had a soul-devouring being of chaos hunting you down so it could finish eating you?” “No,” I said. “I’m sorry, Lohka.” “That’s nice,” he muttered. “What about the part where this soul-devouring being of chaos seems to have a taste for me at the moment?” Zhabyr asked. “Can we worry about that, now? Because I kind of already am.

Sir, come quick. They've found a body in the canal." I blew out my breath. Saved by the corpse. ...The corpse in question was Nigel Nicabar. The watchers had collected the bodies found in Nigel's house, garden, and canal, and put them in the greenhouse located at the back of the garden. The necromancer's talents weren't with living things, so the greenhouse's tables were pretty much empty - at least of plants. Dead goblins lay under sheets and tarps. I couldn't help feeling that Nigel would have approved. What he wouldn't have approved of was being included among them. Nigel wouldn't have been caught dead surrounded by goblins, yet that's exactly how and where he was. I don't think he would have appreciated the irony.

Skylab might have been the only thing that fell faster than Reggie’s skirt when it came to a man squatting in the general proximity of her vestibule. The sun rises. The earth turns. Reggie drops her skirt.

Skin color doesn't make you different,' Melody said. 'We're all the same on the inside.' 'The only people who ever say that,' Raymon replied, 'are white.

Some things just scrape my spine!

Sometimes I miss the people my characters were before I ruined their lives.

Some were only there to see and be seen. Some to watch the fall. People love free booze and a car crash.

Sow a thought and reap an action, sow an action and reap a habit, sow a habit and reap a destiny - John Cleaver

Stridey-Man' asked, Want 2 vacay w/me? William snorted as he typed. Romantic getaway for 2? UR not my type, dickwad. Fuck U. i'm everybody's types. So U in or out?Last chance in or out? In Knew U couldn't resist me. B ready in 5. Right on. Make it 10. I want 2 style my hair for U. U know, just how U like it. ASSHOLE.

Stuey was in heaven, but he wished that he were in hell.

…Ten minutes later I pulled the van into the loading dock behind the hospital and removed my gurney. It was a bit of a farce to use a full-sized adult gurney for a few babies, but I didn’t think walking through the corridors with my arms filled with them was a particularly good plan either. I had an image of fumbling and dropping them, like a stressed out mom carrying too many grocery bags to avoid the extra trip in from the car.

Smoking is extremely hazardous to you and those around you" it said on the label. He glanced around. The few termites that might thrive down here could probably handle it.

Terry loved candlelight dinners and red wine. It was a nice contrast from work. And killing people.

That's wonderful news" Clairmont said. "Can you get this lady some tea when you have a chance? She's threatened to kill for it." "Won't be necessary, dearie," Mary told me with a smile. "We serve tea without bloodshed.

That’s good.’ ‘Is it? It hasn’t been that long since…’ ‘Yeah, since the world fell apart. For us it hasn’t been that long, Jobs. For them, they’ve been gone five hundred years. That’s a lot of years.’ Jobs smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t know why I always found this funny but…my uncle used to say to me, “Jobs, have fun while you can because you’re dead a long time.”’ ‘He was so right,’ Mo’Steel said.

The Baudelaire orphans hung on to one another, and wept and wept while the adults argued endlessly behind them. Finally-as, I'm sorry to say, Count Olaf forced the Quagmires into puppy costumes so he could sneak them onto the airplane without anyone noticing-the Baudelaires cried themselves out and just sat on the lawn together in weary silence.

The Dallas Times Herald ran a cartoon mocking the [Reagan] administration's position. "We don't oppose the extension of the Voting Rights Act ... but we think the test of discrimination should be intent not effect," a fictional Smith said at a press conference. "Won't that cripple enforcement of the Act?" a reporter asked. "That is not our intent," Smith responded.

The contrast between the friendly greeting and the weapons propped against their shoulders is almost humorous.

The darkest hours bring the most light.

The fact that it took me eleven years to become an overnight success should also reassure him. It’s not my fault success has brought my unseemly arrogance and braggadocio to the surface: I was always thus tainted, but when you’re poor and unsuccessful it’s just vulgar ostentation to flaunt such character flaws: success wears very badly on me: I’m a sore winner. But those who have known and loved me through the Dismal Swamps of all the lies that are my life will testify that it is not merely the acquisition of pocket money that has made me an elitist. The seeds were always present. Only becoming a Writer of Stature has made them flower.

There are fears that Britain could be facing a double-dip recession, or worse still, a double-dip with misery sprinkles and fuck-where's-my-job-sauce.