Best 1852 quotes in «crime quotes» category

When we follow this criminal-justice aspect of our world, and that means of our society, we experience miracles, as they say, on a daily basis.

When we wonder why crime doesn't stop or end. It is because the people who are committing it. We know them very well and we cant expose them. Instead, we protect them, because we benefit from their crime.

When we take something and don’t pay the price for it, we are punished by the world for fraud, crime or corruption. Such punishment gives us pain in proportion to what we have taken illegitimately from the world. However, when we voluntarily refuse to take anything from the world while sharing what we have with it, we get praise and honour in return, and that gives us joy.

When you are in hell, stay awhile, you might just pick up an idea for a sequel...

When you commit a crime to upgrade yourself, your sin becomes a blessing, but your blessing kills you before your time.

When you get to Hell, I'll be sitting in the hot tub waiting.

When you're in the safety of the future, the past doesn't seem so relevant.

When you're reading a good noir, the shocks and twists have a way of feeling deja vu-like, as if you saw them coming, but hoped the characters would take a left turn... not answer the phone, not sleep with that woman, not sell drugs to those cops... but knew they would. It would have been wrong if they didn't, and the real surprise can be that you care about someone you know is in for hell. You relate to them, even when their hell is so much bigger than your own. But we're all going to die, and we all make mistakes. The best noir stories make you forget plot entirely by giving you characters that feel so well-realised you can't look away as they fall.

When you've been falsely accused of serious crimes as often I have, you learn to recognize the oncoming inevitability of the next one.

Where's your sense of misadventure?

Where I’m taking you, no one will ever find us. We’ll have all the time in the world for you to grow to love me as much as I love you.

While there is a lower class, I am in it. While there is a criminal element, I am of it. While there is a soul in prison, I am not free.

Whose Daddy's Little Girl Now?

Whoever has the sword will have the earth.

Yeah," I said because it led to more options than 'no'.

With him big Phil from Notting Hill an old "face" from the sixties a pin up gangster with a "mars bar" weal scraping his left cheek and of course two "wag" slags in tow trussed up like French Poodles with "Bratz babe" stares and Gucci Handbags

With this choice, I know that I am giving up my career and most of my so-called friends. But, this is something I must do. Finally, I am going to do the right thing for the right reasons and maybe save his life.

Would I come off as a creepy-stalker-kind-of-guy or would it demonstrate that I cared?

Yeah, the club was dark but so's the whole country. When someone important goes missing, or the case is interesting enough, everybody has the same fetish. Whole world, really. No one admits it, but it's true.

You cannot have a society of angels except in heaven

You belong to the League of Nations?’ ‘I belong to the world, Madame,’ said Poirot dramatically.

You can only rise so far by climbing on others’ shoulders, you know.

You can have a lot of fun with rhinos

You cannot take vengeance on a whole people because of the doings of a few wicked men.

You can take care of everything except chance. Chance can kill you.

You don't have to believe in coincidences because they happen every day. The trick is to be able to discern when something is more than coincidence.

You console me a little, but only a little,’ said Poirot.

You don’t like what you see out your window, you put up a wall.

You can't jump for the stars if your feet hurt. And when you get where you're going, you darn well better look great!

You don’t rewrite it, censor it, or edit it, to suit some warped view you have of the past and your own present.

You Englishmen,’ said Herr Wurter. ‘You are all the same. Wherever you are you behave as if you were at home and your word was law.

You ever get the feeling all hell’s about to break loose and there’s nothing you can do about it?

You just hang in there, boy, hang in with that apprenticeship of yours, do you hear me? You are lucky they would even take someone like you. You’re a child of the slums. A ragtag. On top of that, you’re a whining piece of shit. Nobody will ever do anything for you. Do you understand what I’m saying? They’ll let you starve to death, no problem. Nobody is going to cry on your grave.” Poul-Erik’s Mother The Informer by Steen Langstrup

You know you're writing a good thriller when you make yourself paranoid.

You know what's the worst? Having realistic, ordinary expectations taken out of your reach by seemingly unrealistic, extraordinary circumstances.

You know it's a good mystery novel when you, the reader, find yourself becoming a frustrated detective who occasionally gets it right.

You live by whatever rules you need to govern your life the best you think. Let's just try not to encroach.

You'll be making so much cash that you won't know what to waste it on.

You look like shit.” “Thanks. I look way better than I feel.

You need a break every once in a while to enjoy the everyday and you need the everyday to enjoy the break you take every once in a while.

You need a break, a complete rest, recharge your batteries.' Recharge your batteries. What the hell does that mean? Nelson prides himself on not needing batteries. He's an old-fashioned, wind-up model.

Your choices can only be limited by your mind.

Young girls frequently report that their early sexual experiences were coerced. In a study in South Africa, 30 percent of girls report that their first sexual intercourse was forced. In rural Malawi, 55 percent of adolescent girls surveyed report that they were often forced to have sex.

Your choice is your choice and you need to accept what happens, not shift the blame to someone else if it doesn't turn out your way.

You’re just a bully who found it easier and easier and decided that everybody else wasn’t really a real person, not like you, and when you know that, there’s no crime too big, is there? No crime you won’t do.

Young man,” he went on, raising his head again, “in your face I seem to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was why I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving, she danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit. The medal … well, the medal of course was sold—long ago, hm … but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell some one or other of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don’t condemn her for it. I don’t blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but won’t allow herself to be treated with disrespect. That’s why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov’s rudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than the other. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her father’s house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with tears and she throws him up at me; and I am glad, I am glad that, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once been happy.… And she was left at his death with three children in a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups and downs of all sorts, I don’t feel equal to describing it even. Her relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively proud.… And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No, that you don’t understand yet…

Your days are only important if you decide to make them important.

A crafty knave needs no broker.

Your mother is holding your hand too tightly. You whimper and cling to her dress, because you know what will happen next. She stares at you, as if she's forgotten how to blink. There's one last glimpse of her face before she bundles you into the cupboard under the stairs. 'Don't make a sound,' she hisses, 'don't even breathe.' Darkness smothers you as the key twists in the lock. There's a chance that he won't find you, cowering on the floor, between the broom and floor mops, a stack of wellington boots.

You should be the model for all men, But your affairs are crooked! The standard for all men cheats the whole land! The vintner of evil waters his plot with crimes, Until his plot sprouts falsehood, His estate flows with crimes!