Best 243 quotes in «dark humor quotes» category

Life's a grave dig it.

Loop, you shot him in the head... Fuck yeah he dead.

Magic. I draw with silver and it turns red.

Like a Siren, it tempts me with whispered promises of the ever-elusive Normal Life.

Lucy stood on her tiptoes and kissed John Hardin on the cheek and pulled him tightly against her. She put his forehead against hers and smiled at him until he blushed. Then, Lucy stepped back, looked at the coffin, and played to the crowd. Who gave my secret away It's just what I always wanted and I can't wait to try it on

Mallor reached into a pocket and tossed a pair of hazel eyeballs onto the table. They bounced softly and wobbled to a bloody stop next to the butcher's knife. "Go untie the man in my room, and see to it that he gets those back.

Maybe my dissertation really had been as brilliant as he claimed, the truth was I remember almost nothing about it; the intellectual leaps I made when I was young were a distant memory to me, and now I was surrounded by a kind of aura, when really my only goal in life was to do a little reading and get in bed at four in the afternoon with a carton of cigarettes and a bottle; and yet, at the same time, I had to admit, I was going to die if I kept that up – I was going to die fast, unhappy and alone. And did I really want to die fast, unhappy and alone? In the end, only kind of.

Mairi stared at Parlabane with an expression he had seen too often down the years: that look of distress at having discovered precisely how deep the rabbit hole goes, and what darkness lay at its end.

Max can’t hear or speak, but he communicates okay. He wasn’t programmed for fear—whoever rolled the genetic dice left that out too. If Mama asked Max to deliver a package to the Devil, Max would go straight to Hell. Unlike others of my acquaintance who had made that particular trip, I had complete confidence that Max would come back. Max the Silent is one tough boy. In fact, he’s so infamous that one time over in night court when he was being arraigned for attempted murder, nobody even laughed when the judge told him that he had the right to remain silent. They all knew that Max never attempted to murder anyone.

Maybe tranquility is the dirt under my nails. I know it's there but I never feel like digging it out.

Michel en a marre d'être seul. Alors il s'est amputé d'une partie de son cerveau, histoire de ne pas voir la fille comme elle était: une emmerdeuse de premier ordre.

Mikhail pushed a hand through his thick mane of hair. “Our people cannot do without you, Gregori, and quite simply, neither can I.” “You are so certain that I will not turn?” Gregori’s smile was self-mocking. “Your faith in me exceeds my own. This vampire is ruthless, drunk on his own power. He craves the killing, the destruction. I walk the line of that madness every day. His power is nothing, a feather in the wind compared to mine. I have no heart, and my soul is dark. I do not want to wait until I cannot make my own choice. The one thing I do not want is to force you to seek me out to destroy me. My life has been my belief in you, in protecting you. I will not wait until I must be hunted.” Mikhail waved a tired hand to open the earth above his brother. “You are our greatest healer, the greatest asset to our people.” “That is why they whisper my name in fear and dread.” Beneath their feet the ground suddenly shook, heaved and bucked, rolling perilously. The center of the earthquake was obviously a great distance away, but there was no mistaking the howl of rage produced by a powerful vampire at the destruction of his lair. The undead had entered his lair confidently, until he found the body of the first wolf. Each turn or passage entrance was marked with one of his minions, until his entire pack lay dead at his feet. The burned bodies of his sentinels, the bats, lay in a mound of blackened ashes. Fear turned to terror. It would not be Mikhail, whose sense of justice and fair play would be his downfall, but the dark one. Gregori— the most feared of all Carpathians. It had not occurred to the vampire that the dark one might take a hand in this game. Andre hurtled himself from the safety of his favorite lair just as the mountain heaved and the chamber walls collapsed in on themselves. Cracks widened in the narrow passageway, and the rock faces inched closer and closer together. The clap of granite grinding against granite nearly burst his eardrums. A true vampire making numerous kills was far more susceptible to the sun, and to the terrible lethargy that claimed Carpathian bodies in the day. Andre had little time to find a safe hole. As he burst from the collapsing mountain, the sun hit his body, and he screamed with the agony of it. Dust and rock spewed from his home, and the echo of Gregori’s taunting laughter drifted down with the debris from the earthquake. “No, Gregori.” There was amusement in Mikhail’s soft voice as he floated into the soothing arms of the earth. “That is a good example of why they whisper your name in fear and dread. No one understands your dark humor the way I do.

Miss Leary, do you mean to insinuate that I should go encouraging homo-sex-uality amongst these corpses?

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! ...

Love is a madness. Love is Failer - Durzo Blint

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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!

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

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.

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.

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

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

Russian stories never have happy endings.

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.

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, …

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

She doesn't seem deranged to me?

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.