Best 755 quotes in «monsters quotes» category

Too often people mistake monsters for gods.

To say that I wished I wasn't there would be a ludicrous understatement, but I'd only ever had the illusion of choice: We have to do this, Hank had said. It's for Ellis. To refuse would have been an act of calculated cruelty. And so, because of my husband's war with his father and their insane obsession with a mythical monster, we'd crossed the Atlantic at the very same time a real madman, a real monster, was attempting to take over the world for his own reasons of ego and pride.

TO WHOM LIFE IS AN EXPERIENCE TO BE CARRIED AS FAR AS POSSIBLE... I have not meant to express my thought but to help you clarify what you yourself think... You are not any more different from me than your right leg is from your left, but what joins us is THE SLEEP OF REASON—WHICH PRODUCES MONSTERS. —Theory of Religion

True monsters are not those lurking under the bed, but the ones sleeping in it.

Truth is a battle of perceptions. People only see what they're prepared to confront. It's not what you look at that matters, but what you see. And when then different perceptions battle against one another, the truth has a way of getting lost. And the monsters find a way of getting out.

Turned out, monsters were capable of love after all. But it didn’t mean they should.

Unhappiness slowly creeps up on you, like a shape-shifting monster waiting in the darkness of your hallway, his bulging eyes watching your every move. The breath on his slimy tongue makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

Unlike its human counterparts, an army of zombies is completely independent of support. It will not require food,ammunition, or medical attention. It will not succumb to panic, desertion, or out-and-out mutiny. Like the virus that gave it life, this undead force will continue to grow, spreading across the body of this planet until there is nothing left to devour. Where would you go? What would you do?

Violet, this closet with all the creepy dolls, can I—” “Don’t touch my creepy doll collection, Leiza,” Violet says sharply. “Quit trying to get rid of all my favorite things.

We are a race prone to monsters, she thought, and when we produce one we worship it.

WANG. We live in a time of great change. It is easy to find monsters- and as easy to find heroes. To judge rightly what is good - to choose between good and evil - that is all that is to be human.

We all fight monsters, she knew. There was no shame in losing.

We are all monsters.

We live, if we still do live, in a Sea of Chaos, out of which any fucking monster can evolve.

We are very fond of books. You can learn nearly everything from them that rabbits can't teach you.

We deal with so many nightmares on a regular basis. When I’m watching a horror movie, there’s a pattern, a sense of control in them. I’m just an observer, not having to deal with any of the repercussions. It’s a nice dream to think monsters play by the rules, that they’ve got a pattern you can unlock and follow. Real life’s messy, and the chaos leaves you devastated in the wake.

… we have bad dreams because our brain is trying to protect us… If we can figure out a way to beat the imaginary monsters … Then the real monsters don’t seem so scary… That’s why we like reading scary stories.

Well, what is a monster, anyway? Something you can't identify with no matter how hard you try. Something so far outside your experience.

We took the path that led others nowhere and only we saw the light at the end of the tunnel. They warned us about the monsters we would encounter, the odds that we would meet. And they laughed when we got the scars while fighting the dragons on our way. When we came back out of the tunnel, holding the sword that they always craved for tightly in our hand. Bleeding and the sun shining on our face. We became the tales they wanted to be. We became the reflections of what they always wanted to see themselves through. We became the warriors they had always imagined of.

We may see a Creature with forty-nine heads Who lives in the desolate snow, And whenever he catches a cold (which he dreads) He has forty-nine noses to blow. 'We may see the venomous Pink-Spotted Scrunch Who can chew up a man with one bite. It likes to eat five of them roasted for lunch And eighteen for its supper at night. 'We may see a Dragon, and nobody knows That we won't see a Unicorn there. We may see a terrible Monster with toes Growing out of the tufts of his hair. 'We may see the sweet little Biddy-Bright Hen So playful, so kind and well-bred; And such beautiful eggs! You just boil them and then They explode and they blow off your head. 'A Gnu and a Gnocerous surely you'll see And that gnormous and gnorrible Gnat Whose sting when it stings you goes in at the knee And comes out through the top of your hat. 'We may even get lost and be frozen by frost. We may die in an earthquake or tremor. Or nastier still, we may even be tossed On the horns of a furious Dilemma. 'But who cares! Let us go from this horrible hill! Let us roll! Let us bowl! Let us plunge! Let's go rolling and bowling and spinning until We're away from old Spiker and Sponge!

We never see other people anyway, only the monsters we make of them.

We often live next to monsters unawares.

What do I do now?" Pity still filling her eyes, she shrugged and offered an apologetic smile. "You go home. Take care of that," she said, motioning to my arm, which was still bleeding a little and covered in dirt. "And I guess you try to forget that monsters are real.

What did that say about me? Had I become one of the monsters I thought I was fighting? “Things didn’t have to be like this,” I commented. “He could’ve made different choices.

What if it turns out there really are witches and vampires and werewolves living right here alongside us? After all, what better disguise could there be than to get your image enshrined in the culture of the mass media? Anything that's described in artistic terms and shown in the movies stops being frightening and mysterious. For real horror you need the spoken word, you need an old grandpa sitting on a bench, scaring the grandkids in the evening: 'And then the Master of the house came to him and said: "I won't let you go, I'll tie you up and bind you tight and you'll rot under the fallen branches!"' That's the way to make people wary of anomalous phenomena! Kids sense that, you know–it's no wonder they love telling stories about the Black Han and the Coffin on Wheels. But modern literature, and especially the movies, it all just dilutes that instinctive horror. How can you feel afraid of Dracula, if he's been killed a hundred times? How can you be afraid of aliens, if our guys always squelch them? Yes, Hollywood is the great luller of human vigilance. A toast–to the death of Hollywood, for depriving us of a healthy fear of the unknown!

What kind of monsters walked the earth? He couldn't bring himself to call them animals. Because animals never took what wasn't theirs. Never took something only because it was vulnerable, never destroyed what was beautiful simply because they could.

What was the purpose of a woman monster? It came out in a whisper. ‘What am I for?

What's wrong with me? I lose my footing, in here.' He touched his head. 'When a neuro-typical looses their footing, they yell or escape to the TV, or maybe the doctor throws them on depression meds. But when I slip, I fall all the way through. I feel the ground give way and I'm gone. It's a crack -- a crack in what's real, and beneath there I'm stuck. Then, I guess I become someone else. Mom says I still know my name, but I walk a different world. The shrink calls it DID -- Dissociative Identity Disorder -- with a little added autism to spice up my other personality. I suppose he's right, but only I know how it feels to slip through the cracks. Then the monster shows up.

When you confront the monster you fear the most, you'll defeat your fears.

When a human's tears dry up forever, they transform into a monster

When you arrive in the afterlife, you find that Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley sits on a throne. She is cared for and protected by a covey of angels. After some questioning, you find out that God's favorite book is Shelley's Frankenstein. He sits up at night with a worn copy of the book clutched in his mighty hands, alternately reading the book and staring reflectively at the night sky.

What your mind sees when you close your eyes marks the entrance to an endless universe: your imagination.

When people shine a little light on their monster, we find out how similar most of our monsters are.

When you are a Protector, in darkness you see the world through different eyes and the line between Beast and Savior is so thin, you find yourself wondering if it was ever there to begin with. The beat of a heart makes your soul ache, instincts so raw fighting them seems futile and until you are marked, the world holds its breath as within you lies the power to destroy them all.

Who are the real monsters?

Where monsters lurked, love also waited. Bigger than any monster could be.

With a ring around the rosary And a pocket full of crosses Ashes to ashes They'll all fall down

Who knew death could lead to an eating disorder?

Why do you call him a monster?” “Well, an eight-foot tall green gorilla with web feet and bug eyes—what would you call him? A well-developed frog? Not exactly an Ivy-league type, anyway.’” “I’ve met plenty of Ivy-leaguers I’d call monsters.

Why is she here at Herot Hall, where at any second something bad could come down the mountain, or tunnel up from below? Monsters. There's a whole world filled with monsters. They everywhere

Why do you assume I'm human? I wasn't born; I was created just like this. First I was an idea. Then I came into being, charged with a very important task. I've come to find the monster.

Women and monsters have a lot in common [...]. They are both outcasts; alienated, derided and feared by society. They are biological freaks with bodies that transgress and fluctuate, and they are both threats to male power.

You are asking us to lie, Colonel?" "I am asking you to omit. Surely, amidst the...the infinite gradations of human venality, that particular sin ranks low." The old man kneaded the folds of his throat. "What happened out there belongs out there. The jungle has it; let the jungle keep it...

Yes, the monsters were real. Are real. There are creatures in this world that exist beyond the scope of what you know and see. Remember, not all are created equal. Some are better…and worse than others…just like humans.

...you look the truth in the face - not the truth that has fangs and fur but the hard truth about yourself, that you're just as dangerous as the beings the rest of the people fear but you can't afford to be as honest about it. You can't tell those people that you'll make deals with what they fear in order to keep them sage from the monsters who look just like them.

You have to stop crying, and you have to go kick some ass.

You can't stop a soldier from being frightened but you can give him motivation to help him overcome that fear. I have no such motivation. I can't have. I'm a witcher: an artificially created mutant. I kill monsters for money. I defend children when their parents pay me to. If Nilfgaardian parents pay me, I'll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin - which does not seem likely to me - I'll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it is not what I chose. It was chosen for me.

You don't get to become someone's hero unless you are already another's monster.

You -have- to love your monster.

You make everything all right for me, Anita. You make me feel like a human being instead of a monster.’ 'And you love all of me, Micah, every last hard-boiled, ruthless bit of me. You make it okay that sometimes I am the monster.