Best 755 quotes in «monsters quotes» category

No time for monsters.

No use in fearing the monsters under your bed when you've become them.

No, we aren't civilized, even in our business suits and high heels. People are as mean as ever, and as predictable. Underneath it all, we are not so different from what lurks in the wild, perhaps we're worse.

Now you kno what monsters once lurked in the woods near Duva, and if you ever meet a bear with a golden collar, you will be able to greep him by name. So shut the window tight and make sure the latch is fastened. Dark things have a way of slipping in through narrow spaces. Shall we have something good to eat? Well then, come help me stir the pot.

Nyx had killed a lot of people. She'd let even more die through neglect. Rhys was just one more. I'm the same person, aren't I? she thought. She had burned herself up, only to come out the other side exactly the same. Taite's signal would get out, Nyx knew. It would be soon enough to save *her*. But it would not be soon enough for Rhys. Nyx hardened her jaw. Her hands and feet were still tied. They'd stripped her of her most obvious weapons. She could just wait this out. She saw Rhys register that. But there was no shock. Just resignation. He knew her for what she was. Butcher. Monster. The same old monster.

Oh sure, everyone else charges monsters and it's brave, I do it once and I'm a madman.

One does not have to see the sea to know that monsters live there.

One man carries salvation and damnation from the desert.

Pagans can be just as monstrous as any other group. They can be murderers, rapists, pedophiles. We need to accept that they are our problem and deal with them. We need to speak against their crimes and challenge them rather than letting our silence make us complicit.

On old maps, cartographers would draw strange beasts around the margins and write phrases such as "Here be dragons." That's where monsters exist: in the unmapped spaces, in the places where we haven't filled in all the gaps...

Only monsters could slay monsters.

Other people imagined demons and monsters under the bed. Robert had actually seen them.

...our monsters walk the dark pathways of secret motives...

Patches don’t look it, but when attached to your soul they can get pretty heavy. They go over the holes in your soul, like when you patch a sock. When you have a hole in your soul, it’s because you’re hurting from something. I don’t know if you noticed, but that girl had a lot of holes.

...people demonize certain types of crime - it's a way of distancing ourselves from the monsters...

Poetry comes within, not the person you pretend to be out there... Take your fears, your failures, your flaws and dip your pen in that ink, For when it comes to writing something beautiful, we all must first face the monsters, we would rather just erase.

People think it's the monsters who do bad things, but it's not. It's people like us. All the monsters ever do is live in storybooks. Or in closets. It's the humans who destroy things. Life isn't black and white, James. It's all fucking gray.

People think "monsters" are born without origin. But it is the monsters that have the greatest stories to tell...

Philip doesn't let go, his eyes glinting with rage. "We're gonna survive this thing,and we're gonna do it by being bigger monsters than they are! You understand? There ain't no philosophy, there ain't no grace, there ain't no mercy, there's only us and them, and all they wanna do is eat our ass! So we're gonna fucking eat them! We're gonna chew 'em up and spit 'em out, and we're gonna survive this thing or I will blow a hole through this whole fucked up world! You follow me? You FOLLOW ME!

Rushing out the door on his way back to the street, he ran into someone with his shoulder. Turning to apologize to them, he stopped, horrified at what he saw. It was the white-eyed man he’d met a week ago. “Watch your back.” He said standing there just long enough for Raven to take in the meat between his teeth, the milky, nearly opaque color of his eyes and the madness within them. Then, after only a few seconds, he was gone, vanished into the crowd as if he had never existed. Certain his mind was playing tricks and tired of being terrified for his sanity, he headed down the street as fast as he could in pursuit. As he rushed through the tightly packed crowd, he saw others like the man he’d just seen, and each of their white eyes gazed blankly into his. A woman here, a hunched drifter there, shapes and faces that shifted and darted all around him. “Watch your back.” They hissed, and he tried to move faster, his heart racing and the nerves of his body jangling painfully with fear as he fought to get beyond them. Hands reached out for his clothes, pulling him in different directions as they tugged and he struggled to be free. Their fingers felt like talons clasped into the folds and gaps of his clothing, ripping and popping stitches in their fervor to gain some small grasp on his flesh beneath his jacket. Along with the horror of their cold, dead eyes, he could smell some strangeness—a sickly sweet smell of rot and decay only barely closeted by preserving fluids. The smell dug into his sinuses as their fingers and hands dug at him. He gagged, his teeth clenched tight as he exerted energy he didn’t really have. He pushed away from them and on through the empty space he saw at the end of this group of pedestrians. Many of whom mingled with what he now felt must be the dead, wholly unaware of why he flailed and pushed against them.

-Quizá por eso se desvanecen los monstruos -respondí-. Tal vez no se trate de lo que crean los mortales. A lo mejor lo que pasa es que dejan de creer en sí mismos.

Praising heroes who slay monsters is a writer’s most ancient task.

Real life... Witches: Wiccan practitioners. Werewolves: rare strain of rabies. Zombies: Prions/Plague. Vampires: Hemophilia/Porphyria

Remember that I’m still a monster. I can listen to you scream and cry and beg and I still won’t let you out.

Sanji: That's right he's a rubberman Chopper: What do you mean? Sanji: I mean he's a monster

She finally understood why the monsters in the Forest always seemed to smile. Beasts only bared their teeth as a warning before they attack.

She could spin it between her legs, skip with it, twirl it around her neck and transfer it from one arm to the other. Shelly hooped because she enjoyed it; it calmed her whenever she would have an argument or a bad day at school, and it also allowed her to think. Today, she needed to hoop more than ever.

She hated seeing monsters smile. Monsters should growl and snarl and be done with the pretenses.

Serafina, Ava, Ling, and Becca swam inside. Neela followed them, but at the very last second, shield. “I can’t,” she said. “Once I go in, there’s no way out again. This is real. You’re real. All this time, a part of me was hoping you were only a dream.” The witch cocked her head. “Only a dream?” she said mockingly. “Long ago, a great mage dreamed of stealing the gods’ powers. Abbadon was born of that dream. Atlantis died because of it. Now, because of a new dreamer, all the waters of the world may fall. There is nothing more real than a dream.” She nodded at the waters behind Neela. Silt was rising in the distance, a great deal of it. “The merman Traho knows this. He’s coming. If you do not believe me, perhaps he can convince you.

She’d thought for sure that she would be able to truly change the world for the better by fighting those armies in France: surely, she’d be able to help the situation, gain some satisfaction in being able to do her part to win the war. Wasn’t that what they were supposed to do? Those propaganda reels at the theaters were always going on and on about how every man, woman, and child needed to do their part. She’d never imagined the lessons she’d learned in France and in Germany, when she discovered that the bad guys sometimes won and killed the good guys. That sometimes, people didn’t have a good side: sometimes, monsters hid in the clothing of a human.

She'd fall back asleep dreaming of hurricanes whipping the palm trees around her childhood home, trying to run from the Godzilla-sized beast that rushed to devour her. But her feet were stuck in invisible cement. As she struggled to scream, she'd startle awake and feel the staccato beats of her heart thumping double-time. Only then would she remember: she brought him into this world. - The Monster In Her Bedroom, Havok Magazine, Issue 1.1

She is so lovely she could kill you without you even noticing it. A monster girl who knows when to kiss and when to kill.

Shelly shook her head and made sure she had plenty of space so that she wouldn’t hit anything. As many times before, she kept the hoop close to her waist and then twirled it with small, tight bursts of speed. As the hoop gathered in momentum it started to give off a hum that soon took on a light blue illumination far brighter than the streetlamps. It was so bright, that it lit up the entire backyard.

She's in the club. The hopelessly-outnumbered-and-surrounded-by-monsters club.

She was torn between the impulse to run and the urge to curl up like a pill bug, close her eyes, tuck her head beneath her arms, and play the game of since-I-can't-see-monsters-monsters-can't-see-me.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and bit her bottom lip. I found it to be such an erotic gesture that it aroused me. My eyes began making love to her in the dark. Unseen hands passed over her curves, quietly descending...trembling at her great beauty. I didn't even know her, but I wanted her. My gaze danced over her every curve, from her nose and lips, to her breasts and hips, surreptitiously. She had no idea of my thoughts. Shadow sex.

Sometimes, humans were more monstrous than anything else.

Somehow her hula hoop had cut into the driver’s side door like the vehicle was made of cheese.

Some monsters disguise themselves so well you don’t realize that they’re monsters until it’s too late. You check all of the usual places: under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain, around that suspicious, dark corner of your room. No, some monsters don’t look like monsters at all. But they are, have been, and always will be there.

Solomon breathed a sigh of relief ever so slightly, thankful that the cricket had not been eaten. Not that he was concerned for the cricket being eaten. No, he was simply relieved that the voice in the closet, which could be a monster, had not eaten it. If the voice had eaten the cricket, that meant that he was a monster that eats things in the night, and Solomon too could be eaten. Being eaten by a closet monster was perhaps the scariest thing that could happen to an elephant, not to mention a cricket, as far as Solomon was concerned.

...something more than the sum of its parts-

Sometimes, monsters needed to die.

Sometimes monsters are things people should be scared of, but they aren't.

Sometimes, the only way to solve your problems in life, the only way to conquer your fears, is if you face them. If you face your problems, they just flee. But if you flee instead, run away from them, they only get bigger, and they can totally destroy you.

Sometimes murderers just do not murder the right person, which is a shame...

So, no mutated zombie animals like in Resident Evil?

Somewhere in this world there exists an exceptional philosopher named Florie Rotondo. The other day I came across one of her ruminations printed in a magazine devoted to the writings of schoolchildren. It said: “If I could do anything, I would go to the middle of our planet, Earth, and seek uranium, rubies, and gold. I'd look for Unspoiled Monsters. Then I'd move to the country. --Florie Rotondo, age 8.” Florie, honey, I know just what you mean – even if you don’t: how could you, age eight?

Soon, all the children were chanting it. “No school! No school!

So when she looked in the mirror one day, and saw the beginning of thorny protrusions on her legs, a slight greenish tinge to her skin, she sighed. It was inevitable. - The Monster In Her Bedroom, Havok Magazine, Issue 1.1

The best way to cleanse the world from monsters is by not becoming one.