Hope is the privilege of the weak. — Gasmaskman
Hope is the privilege of the weak. — Gasmaskman
Hope is the privilege of the weak. — Gasmaskman
Hope is the privilege of the weak. — Gasmaskman
Hope is the privilege of the weak. — Gasmaskman
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Hope is the privilege of the weak.

— Gasmaskman
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dark philosophical

More “Dark” Quotes

Don't let 'em see they killed you! — Henry V. O'Neil, CHOP Line
Open up your Mind Rockin' Minds to the Cold Hard Reality that is my Songs & Dreams. — Gemini Rising Rockin' Machine, The, Purgatory's Full: A Song, a Dream or a Cold Hard Reality in Thirty-Six Parts
Red, orange and green geometric designs painted its body as well as the flimsy collar around its neck. The creature flic — Marcha A. Fox, A Dark of Endless Days
I wouldn’t joke if you weren’t always patching me up,” Davin retorted. He looked at Chad again. “You must have noticed, — J.M. Richards, Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning
There is sometimes a fine line between a cop and a criminal. What drives their personality may be the same, and they hav — M.L Rapier
Maybe. But I was always fond of killing assholes. And you're at the top of the list. — Nashoda Rose, Perfect Ruin
It’s not about being ready or feeling prepared all the time — sometimes you just have to do what you know you have to do. And when you do – you will always see that you’re more ready and more prepared than you realize. Never doubt yourself or you may never do anything of significance.
You do not see the painting in the attic The maggots on skin that tear. The beauty is a trick. Narcissus - promise naugh — Stella Coulson, Wanderer: Dark Poetry
Linear’s defeated form The intangible reality rise.'' ~ Wanderer — Stella Coulson, Wanderer: Dark Poetry
You are a cool cemetery.You have the sinner’s graveYou have the saint’s earthcollidingYou have all the bedsnarrow as a k — Munia Khan, Beyond The Vernal Mind
imagine the desertmothers, with hair tangledtighter than their theologyand breasts that flowed milkand mystic wisdom. th — Beth Morey, Night Cycles: Poetry for a Dark Night of the Soul
we have forgotten what night tastes like, salted by full moon silver rupturingthe dark. we have forgotten how the skin s — Beth Morey, Night Cycles: Poetry for a Dark Night of the Soul