Best 1852 quotes in «crime quotes» category

If Mistery, Crime, Horror, True Crime, SuperNature, Fiction, Non-FIcition and many other categoris if they didn't exist, and people didn't find a way to relax. Nobody will be never on the way to reach the place where almost a lot of are now, people don't want normal life they want to view the life through a killer.

If one find lost property in a locality where the majority are Israelites, he is bound to proclaim it; but he is not bound to do so if the majority be Gentiles.' -- Bava Metzia , fol 24, col. 1" -- Hebraic Literature, page 31

I found that disturbing the night's calm ambience was almost as gratifying as the ambience itself.

I found it hard to get motivated because I found it hard to care.

If poverty is the mother of all crimes, lack of intelligence is their father.

If telling men "don't rape" instead of telling women "don't get raped", is like telling thieves "don't steal" instead of home owners to "lock your houses", why don't we hear more victims of home invasion being told "you got what you deserved for having such a beautiful house on display for everyone to see" ???

If the future generation has a difficult life, if they engage in war or commit crime it's not their fault, it's our fault because we fail to educate them. So responsibility resides on me, on us, to educate them in proper ways.

If the solution to all of Africa’s illegal practices and crimes is to legalize them, then we are a doomed continent. Human trafficking; buying, selling, and consuming illegal addictive drugs; fraudulent financial transactions, computer hacking, identity theft—would legalizing these destructive behaviors improve society? If not, why would legalizing abortion improve the lives of Africans?

If we are on the outside, we assume a conspiracy is the perfect working scheme. Silent nameless men with unadorned hearts. A conspiracy is everything that ordinary life is not. It's the inside game, cold, sure, undistracted, forever closed off to us. We are the flawed ones, the innocents, trying to make some rough sense of the daily jostle. Conspirators have a logic and daring beyond our reach. All conspiracies are the same taut story of men who find coherence in some criminal act.

If we found a ticket to Disneyland would you think we should arrest Mickey Mouse?

If you are a good hacker everybody knows you, But if you are a great hacker nobody knows you.

If you want to convince a criminal to see things your way, start by seeing things theirs.

If you're not happy with yourself, how can you even begin to figure out if another person makes you happy, annoyed, angry, sad and so on.

If you would have all Nigerians penalised for a crime committed by a Benin man, then you would have all Europeans penalised for a crime committed by a German man. Nigeria has ideological differences, judge not all at a time.

I get a little obsessive, it was my hallmark as a coach. I'm more effective when it gets personal and I tend to stick with a thing until it gets personal. I haven't been doing this that long but so far, knock on wood, I've never had to give up. There's something rewarding about it—when you grab that first slender thread that unravels the whole web. I just can't stand seeing anyone get away with something, and I'm dreading the first time I have to walk away from a case knowing who did it and why, but that there's nothing I can do about it. Amy's right to worry, I'm the world's worst loser, as several generations of junior high teams could tell you. I still mourn games I lost 10 years ago. I swear, I wake up sweating and angry over a pass-action I should have known not to call, I'm not kidding. It's not healthy.

I got my lawyer to visit me in the jail. He couldn’t believe the bruising over my body, so he pulled the governor and asked why I was covered in marks. The governor said to my lawyer that it was ‘self-inflicted’ and was caused by my ‘running into walls’. That part was disproved because walls don’t leave footprints all over your body.

I guess my biggest problem is that I find it easier to relapse than to carry through.

I knew today was gonna be bad, but I never got close to this

If we were walking here together, I’d point out the carnivorous plants that grow on this spot: sundews with sticky red leaves, eating insects to sustain them because the soil is so poor. If you were with me, I’d take you to the Doubler Stones, where thousands of years ago, Neolithic peoples carved channels in the rock to drain away the blood from their sacrifices. I would show you where the plover nests, and the green hairstreak butterfly lays its eggs. I love this place. I love this land. It’s part of me, it’s part of who I am. But it’s no place for you: a seven-year-old girl in a princess costume.

If you want to kill serious crime, you have to kill serious criminals!

If you were me you’d do the right thing, help your friends, because you’re not a coward,” Mandy sighed sadly. “I covered up a murder because I was scared to go to jail and I did the wrong thing… well, now’s my chance to do the right thing, to save someone’s life, because I don’t want you to die.” “Save someone’s life? I’m no one,” Alecto laughed morbidly. “A hundred and twelve years is definitely way too long to have survived. You’d be wasting your time and risking your own life….” “This is my life,” Mandy declared, smiling sincerely. Alecto just looked concerned and very doubtful as the rain drizzled down the roads and sidewalks, towards the harbour where it fell into the ocean, indistinguishable from all the other water in the world.

If you will forgive me for being personal—I do not like your face, M. Ratchett,’ Poirot said.

I get it. I haven't seen much of the real world yet. But let's say I do get out there... and it turns out that it's not even worth seeing? Or even worse.. what if it's so ugly and cruel that I can barely stand to look? What if I only meet idiots and the depraved? What's that going to teach me? What can I learn from that?

I grew excited when I realized this basic asymmetry implied that nothing – no evidence, no information, no facts or data – connected me to the stranger except for the evidence of my own personal observations which remained private as long as I kept them that way. And what did that mean? First of all, it meant I could influence the stranger’s life in any way I wanted without him or anyone else suspecting my involvement. But what did that mean? Among other things, it meant I could disrupt this man’s life in some rather extreme ways and never become a suspect in a subsequent investigation. Or did it mean that? I wasn’t sure but I felt I needed to find out.

I had received a t-shirt from my best friend Veronica at my police academy graduation. It reads, ‘Throw your donut in the opposite direction and the cops won’t get you.’ I love wearing that t-shirt.

I hate unbreakable alibis--they are usually the first to crack. --Hugo Anstead

I have read of a gentleman who owned a so fine house in London, and when he went for months of summer to Switzerland and lock up his house, some burglar came and broke window at back and got in. Then he went and made open the shutters in front and walk out and in through the door, before the very eyes of the police. Then he have an auction in that house, and advertise it, and put up big notice; and when the day come he sell off by a great auctioneer all the goods of that other man who own them. Then he go to a builder, and he sell him that house, making an agreement that he pull it down and take all away within a certain time. And your police and other authority help him all they can. And when that owner come back from his holiday in Switzerland he find only an empty hole where his house had been. This was all done en règle; and in our work we shall be en règle too. We shall not go so early that the policemen who have then little to think of, shall deem it strange; but we shall go after ten o’clock, when there are many about, and such things would be done were we indeed owners of the house.

I have romanticised you to the point where the knives you pressed into my skin began to look like cupids arrows.

I have sometimes thought that I have been burdened with a pack of ten misfortunes, any one of which if borne by my neighbor would be enough to make a murderer out of him.

I killed the President because he was the enemy of the good people-the good working people. I am not sorry for my crime. I am sorry I could not see my father.

I liked learning but the challenge was that my mother's need to turn education into a competition was ruining the experience for me.

I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.

I know you, Ruth Ann Carver. I know you better than you know yourself. You think you do things right. You think you're a paragon of right living. This is a self-told lie, one bolstered by your coddling parents and grandparents.

I liked the idea of a person shedding their life, and someone else putting it on. -Oliver Harris on writing The Hollow Man for Crime Time online magazine

I let my initial stance on her prettiness stand and didn't let any superficial thoughts hobble it.

I let my gaze travel out the picture window. Unlike at my old doublewide trailer perched on the fringe of a played out quarry, here I owned a real yard with real grass that screamed for mowing each Monday a.m. I sat at the kitchen table, cooling off from just having finished this week's job. Yes, here in 2005, I was a full-fledged suburbanite, but I'd been called worse.

I love him. These three words were echoing around inside her head, and the noise they were making was not diminishing. They were just three words, which separately were so non-threatening, so innocuous, but when combined in that order they implied so much.

I [Lorna Craig] would say that teaching a girl that her salvation depends on her having sexual relations with a married man is inherently destructive." Such relationships, Craig argues bitterly, should be considered "a crime, not a religion.

I'm here to tell niggas it ain't all swell. There's Heaven then there's Hell niggas One day your cruisin' in your seven, Next day your sweatin', forgettin' your lies, Alibis ain't matchin' up, bullshit catchin' up Hit with the RICO, they repoed your vehicle Everything was all good just a week ago 'Bout to start bitchin' ain't you? Ready to start snitchin' ain't you? I forgive you. Weak ass, hustlin' just ain't you Aside from the fast cars Honeys that shake they ass in bars You know you wouldn't be involved With the Underworld dealers, carriers of mac-millers East coast bodiers, West coast cap-peelers Little monkey niggas turned gorillas.

I'm not a hero, though. I'm just a man.

I'll tell you what you want to hear. I mean, what I need to hear. I'll tell the truth.

Imagine the message that sent to my sister and me. A cousin violates us, confesses, and walks away with barely a slap on the wrist. I learned at a young age that if I was ever going to see justice for the wrongs done to me, I had to find it myself.

I'm amazed at how [police officers] don't want to come to court. They want to make the case and they want it to get prosecuted, but they don't want to come testify. Sorry, but the ultimate way of writing your report is telling it to a jury. When I was a defense lawyer, I used to think all police officers were liars, but now I find that there are only a few. Most of them are pretty straightforward and do a good job. But there are some, and if I know that they are liars or I know they tend to exaggerate, I try to take that into consideration when I'm dealing with their cases.

I mean, the ones on trial are not like me in any way: they're a different kind of human being. They live in a different world, they think different thoughts, and their actions are nothing like mine. Between the world they live in and the world I live in there's this thick, high wall. At least, that's how I saw it at first. ...I became a lot less sure of myself. In other words, I started seeing it like this: that there really was no such thing as a wall separating their world from mine. Or if there was such a wall, it was probably a flimsy one made of papier-mache. The second I leaned on it, I'd probably fall right through and end up on the other side. Or maybe it's that the other side has already managed to sneak its way inside of us, and we just haven't noticed.

I’m going to make you feel so good,” I swore to her, “that you’re going to not just scream my name, but forget yours.

I'm not sure what form I expected the threat to take; a police car actually stopping outside, a powerfully built black man darting up the drive? I had several dreams of siege, in which the house became a frail slatted box, shadowy and exquisite within, the walls all cracked and bleached louvres which fell to powder as one brushed against them. In one dream Arthur and I were there, and others, old school friends, a gaggle of black kids from the Shaft, my grandfather tearful and hopeless. We knew we had no chance of surviving the violence that surrounded us, closing in fast, and I was gripped by a nauseating terror. I woke up in the certain knowledge that I was about to die: the bedsprings were ticking from the sprinting vehemence of my heartbeat. I didn't dare go back to sleep and after a while sat up and read, while Arthur slept deeply beside me. It took days to lose the mood of the dream, and its power to prickle my scalp. The neighbourhood seemed eerily impregnated with it, and its passing made possible a new confidence, as if a sentence had been lifted.

I'm relaxed, Belk. I call it Zen and the art of not giving a shit.

In addition, when a neighborhood's crime victims are portrayed as victims-sympathetically and without blame, as humans rather than as statistics-people living in other parts of the city are more inclined to support social services for the area, which in turn can reduce the crime rate.

In all the interviews I have done, I cannot remember one offender who did not admit privately to more victims than those for whom he had been caught. On the contrary, most offenders had been charged with and/or convicted of from one to three victims. In the interviews I have done, they have admitted to roughly 10 to 1,250 victims. What was truly frightening was that all the offenders had been reported before by children, and the reports had been ignored.

In a nutshell, the process they [abusers in a ritual abuse group] use on survivors is designed to: break the will and personality of the person until they become as nothing... with no will of their own...no identity...then they... rebuild the person & shape their will in order to...try and make the person one of them...thus gaining power If abusers hold all the power, becoming one of them can, for some, be the only means of survival. However, this doesn't always work, instead survivors often find ways of regaining their own power and fighting back.