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Dark Humor Quotes

Browse 331 quotes about Dark Humor.

Dark Humor Quotes

“Pet Haunts by Stewart Stafford Ghosts pinned my cat to the wall, So I reached out to pick him up, In the strangest flip to our world, They then turned him into a pup! Spectres floated my pet downstairs, Confused as he hovered on a step, Species-fluid doppelgänger mirage, Without moans or chains to schlepp. Dare we dig into this canine tale, Let me lick myself clean and think, Corporeal companions, some not, We all link up as one past the brink. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryGhostsDogsCatsDark HumorCats HumorSurreal PoetryDogs HumourCats Vs DogsTransition Spirituality
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The waitress gave Dale the stink eye while collecting his discarded food and drink. While she performed the removal, Dale read the text on her shirt. I’VE MASTERED MY SHIT, SO IF WE’RE ARGUING DURING MERCURY RETROGRADE, YOU’RE THE ONE BEING A BITCH, NOT ME. I’M ENLIGHTENED, ASSHOLE.”

HumorEnlightenmentNew AgeAstrologyDark HumorDark HumourNew Age MovementNew Age And SpiritualityMercury RetrogradeTexted Shirts
Book:The Beasts of Success
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“Stuck In One's Craw by Stewart Stafford Nobody's beeswax,' still, you nosily ask: 'Is it the last supper to eat that fast?' Try blackened potato skin's bitter taste, A heritage of hunger's grim, gaunt waste. From Celtic mist, this heir apparent, My grandparent's grandparent(s), Survived Ireland's holocaust famine, As a local catch, not New World salmon. Crop blight drove their starving plea, With lots cast bleak to die or flee Genetic appetite fed the strongest, Those who eat fastest live longest. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

Social JusticeTraumaDark HumorCultural IdentityElegyIrish HistoryIrish LiteraturePotato FamineHistorical PoetryIrish Famine
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“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.”

Self WorthArroganceSarcasmDark HumorPride And Prejudice Adaptation
Author:Harlan Ellison
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“Knowhere by Stewart Stafford Poleaxed by vampiric tapping— rattling timeline of a loop lapping— Hypochondriac paranoid toothache, tasting everything I see and break. Showed my tongue to an undertaker; licked his face — proved I’m no faker. A measured, grim diagnosis followed, matter from a cardiac pump hollowed. Draped loosely in a tea towel shroud, resurrected—naked, loud, and proud— Rocket to the pub for a post-wake baptism, a ploughman’s lunch with relish schism. © 2026, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryExistentialismSatireDark HumorSurrealismContemporary PoetryAbsurdismGothic PoetryHorror PoetryBritish Humor
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“…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.”

HumorDeathMemoirDark HumorCremationMortuaryMortician
Book:Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons from the Crematory
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“We have gone completely, universally soft. The bastardization of the English language is now officially complete because the word 'trauma' has become the new black. It’s the absolute must-have accessory for the modern, emotionally stunted narcissist.”

TruthLife QuotesPsychologySocietyTraumaCynicismNarcissismDark HumorSocial CommentaryModern Culture
Book:Notes From Exile: The "Manual for the Broken”
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“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.”

Dark HumorTragicomedy
Author:George Saunders
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“That's a relief," I admitted. "So, you're aware...does that mean you were a criminal back home?" "Yes." "And?" "And what?" "What were you convicted of?" I asked. "Ah. Improper use of resources." "Right...What did you do?" "I destroyed the sun." "WHAT?" I practically screamed. "I jest." "I fucking hope so! What did you do?" "We were volunteers," it said.”

HumorFunnyDark HumorLitrpgQuick WittedDungeon CoreDungeon Lord
Book:Age of Conquest
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“Richard Burton by Stewart Stafford Jester’s coxcomb to a fool’s translator? A brothel-creeper in a neon-puked alley, A bean-counter totalling rice grains; Surreptitious, scrumptious attic grub. Stand back, witness me Manspread! Lease me your lobes while I Mansplain! Overcome, I expire in an orchestra pit From the fumes of acute "Toxic Masculinity." Hear my epitaph: "Women aren't funny... so put on the Earl Grey, love!" Coup de grâce! Many have said where I should stick my opinion, But I leave the worst to the collective imagination. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryIronySatireSexismPersonaDark HumorSocial CommentaryToxic MasculinityMansplainingManspreading
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“She was knitting a sweater and enjoying the calm atmosphere of her living room when her chubby, beer-drinking, sports-watching husband woke from a nap on the couch screaming, “Touchdown!” At the moment her serenity had been broken, she unconsciously reacted by swinging around and plunging a knitting needle into her husband’s throat. While blood squirted from his throat and his shocked face produced gurgling sounds, she lifted from her chair and drove the other knitting needle into his beer-ballooned stomach over and over again. Blood and beer gushed out of his belly like a punctured fish tank. As her husband gurgled and deflated, she stared down at him with a beaming smile. She had found her new hobby—annihilating assholes. She had cut up her husband into nice little pieces and used him as fertilizer for her backyard garden. Never again did her cozy house get raped by blaring sounds of sports emanating from a television set. The TV went into the garbage and the living room was converted into a tea room.”

SportsHorrorDark HumorHusband And WifeBlack HumorDark HumourBeasts Of SuccessKilling PeopleHusband Wife Problem SolutionBlack Humour
Book:The Beasts of Success
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“At noon a huge crowd of retarded people came to visit Santa and passed me on my little island. These people were profoundly retarded. They were rolling their eyes and wagging their tongues and staggering toward Santa. It was a large group of retarded people and after watching them for a few minutes I could not begin to guess where the retarded people ended and the regular New Yorkers began. Everyone looks retarded once you set your mind to it.”

ChristmasNew York CityDark HumorNew Yorkers
Book:Holidays on Ice
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“The date rape drug he’d intended to give me has knocked him out so hard he’s barely even flinched, despite being dragged to the top of a twelve-storey building, stripped naked and bound to a post. His head lolls towards his chest. I stand back to admire him, taking in his slumped frame as he wilts against the pressure of his rope bindings. He looks Christ-like, vulnerable. His skin is grey in the murky moonlight. His body is incredible. Hardly surprising, since he seems to spend half his life at the gym. His stomach is taut, rippled with abs. His pecs are straight from a swimwear ad, his broad shoulders and ripped arms are built like a boxer’s. His biceps are strong, lined with veins that will soon cease to pump blood. He has the kind of arms that could pin you down so tightly you wouldn’t be able to move a muscle. His hands are large – the least attractive part of him: dry, thick, stubby. They’re the type of hands that could grip your wrists and stifle screams. Hands that could have killed me tonight. Hands that would have hurt me. Hands that would have held me in place while he raped me. I let my eyes wander down to his cock, which would probably have been pounding away inside me around now if things had gone his way. I could tell pretty early into our date that he was a predator. Perhaps it takes one to know one, but I could see it in his dark eyes and sly glances, the hungry way he took in my body, the type of questions he asked, his eagerness to buy me drinks. He probably didn’t think I had it in me to notice. Of course he didn’t. He just saw my shiny, sweeping hair, my lashes, my clothes, my smile. He saw what everybody else sees: my mask.”

ThrillerDark HumorTrue CrimeSerial KillerVigilanteMe TooDate RapeCamilla BlackPretty Evil
Book:Pretty Evil
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“The savage tom-tom of her activity was proceeding at an incredible tempo when it came to an abrupt halt: Ken winced visibly at the sound of sheets being ripped violently from the carriage and dropped into the wastebasket. I nrapid succession he considered and rejected the possibilities of: (1) urging Miss Todd to accomplish her task at a less tempestuous and disastrous pace, (2) paging Jane at Bonwit Teller's, (3) leaving banking for a less new\rve-wracking profession and (4) committing suicide.”

HumorSatireHumorous QuotesDark HumorClassical LiberalismVintage Classics
Book:Banking on Death
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“I was giving my final cast notes when the cramping began. I went to the girls' bathroom, sat down in a stall, and pulled down my jeans. I apologize in advance for what I am about to describe. Imagine a jellyfish as big as an ashtray. Now turn that jellyfish dark bloodred and multiply it by a few hundred. Now imagine pulling down your Sergio Valente jeans and seeing hundreds of ashtray-size bloodred jellyfish pouring out of you. That's what happened to me. "AUUUUUUUUUGH!" I started screaming. AUUUUUUGH!" The bloody pieces - the lining of my uterus, I guess- kept gushing from my body and into the water. It was like my insides were falling out. I tried to catch them in my hands to stop it. There was too much. Plunk. plunk, plunk, plunk. It was endless. A deluge!”

FunnyDark HumorUterusGush
Book:How to Murder Your Life
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“Son of Jaws: Final Flush by Stewart Stafford The toilet monster is dead, He’d been looking flushed, A plunger sucked its face off, I don’t miss it, I’m not pushed. The innocent never had a clue, Sat on the porcelain throne seat, They'd kissed their backsides goodbye, Derrières on rows of razor teeth. A call of nature, but none returned, After closing the bathroom locks, Shoes and knickers found later, Twisted around frantic socks. The awful beast left the building, No critiques of the notorious dead, But words can't describe the relief, When I sit down now to use the head. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

PoetryParentingDark HumorParodyJawsChildhood FearsToilet HumorHorror ComedyPotty TrainingDomestic Horror
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“I’m history’s last fucking joke—burned out in a senior center doing Namaste Yoga while God shows up in a saltine cracker, calls me a coward, and offers me a cigarette. That’s it. That’s the punchline. So fuck your hope, and fuck your healing. I’m already holy. I’m already gone.”

Mental IllnessDark HumorExistential CrisisTrauma RecoveryGallows HumorPoetic DespairReligious SatireApocalyptic ComedyDivine AbsurditySpiritual Disillusionment
Book:Glad You're Not Me
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