Best 757 quotes in «suspense quotes» category

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –

So many doors around here, I'm surprised your name isn't Monty Hall.

Some of my favorite quotes are: A genius is not one who knows all, but knows where to look it up. Unknown The sign of true genius is being able to explain the most complex ideas in the simplest terms. Albert Einstein

Someone put her out of her misery if she ever became impervious to taking a life, when squeezing the trigger stopped being a regret.

Something can be very funny and then suddenly very terrifying-very exciting, and suddenly very ridiculous. I think that’s what life is like, that’s what interests me.

Some say the bible teaches that with our tongues we can speak, set things into motion both good and bad, life and death. What we bind and loose on earth will be bound and loosed in heaven.

Something was wrong. I felt a cold shiver. I didn’t know what at first. Something was just… wrong. I thought of Azrael for some reason, the Imposter, in that cowl, pretending he was Batman. It was that same sick feeling, a crazy kind of panic sparking deep beneath the surface, ready to erupt any second but held in check for the moment by the cold shiver getting colder by the minute. My fingers were so cold… against the warmth of Bruce’s chest… and then the realization came, right underneath those cold fingertips, I knew what was wrong. “When did these heal?” I whispered.

Some things are worth the wait. A little suspense heightens the pleasure.

Sometimes sharing your pain helps the hurt and the guilt become more bearable. You need to feel that way. I need you to feel that way.

Sometimes surviving is all you can do

Sometimes the old-age serenity thing is crap.

Sometimes, the only way to make your dreams come true is to shatter them.

Sometimes the wind made her feel like she was not alone. The icy blasts there seemed to whisper and call her name; they had done so tonight. Not only whispered her name but told her to do it. A frigid voice from somewhere in those January howls had told her to kill them, kill them all.

Sometimes, we are so focused on what we want that we are blind to the things that make us happy. It’s just incredible, and when I focus on what is right in front of me, nothing else matters. All my worries vanish.

So much for the bimbo alert; if she read books like that, then there was a light on upstairs, above the splendid front porch.

So much of what people believe makes no sense, Wylie.

So much better for you to long for what you can never have, than to get it and have to face the reality of it. I assure you, when you realize the reality of this situation, there wont be a hole deep enough for you to climb into to hide the mortification you're going to feel. - Eric to Camile in Pawn of Innocence.

So you know you're a ghost?" I looked at my hands; they were transparent and glowed faintly. "Can you think of another explanation?

So, what’s our next move?” He grinned. “I know what I’d like mine to be.

So tall and lithe in his suede and leather outfit. So utterly gorgeous it almost ached to look at him.

So, what are you going to do about it?” "Watch this!" "Oh, that’s just freaking great. ‘Watch this!’ The two most dangerous words in the English language. I’m getting out of here before lightning strikes.

Spike Lee was the voice depicting the ills of social issues. Joseph Strickland will depict the spiritual issues (or ills) from within. ("The Making of Dual Mania: Filmmaking Chicago Style," 2018)

Su corazón latía con ferocidad, ansiando pasar aunque fuera un segundo más a su lado.

Start Now, close your eyes for few minutes and then open them... so far it's going great... Now just think your three favourite things which you enjoy watching, like for example I like True Crimes, True Stories and so far Suspense.

Stupid girl. Now she was going to have to die.

Support Imagination. Read a book.

Strange sounds, voices - A child's laughter heard through their mother's bedroom door. - The stories told at family gatherings. -Their mother's sometimes odd behaviour. - Twins Jahlil and Jahmeer, with the help of their uncle, a Philadelphia Detective, and a few friends, decide to find out what went on in the upstairs apartment where their mother lived as a young child. They are determined to discover the mystery behind The House On Galloway Rd that has continually traumatized their mother.

Suddenly, a car zoomed out of a side street to their right, slamming into the side of the car with a loud metallic crash. Tires screeched. The passenger window shattered, showering glass over Pam as the other car’s momentum pushed them towards the opposite side of the road. Pam shrieked as the car tumbled over the edge of the road into the embankment. The car rolled until it came to a rest in the bottom of the ditch with creaks and groans. Neither Pam nor her mother stirred.

Susan glared up at the man. "Let go of me." "Tell me where you found it!" he shouted, giving her a little shake. "Did you even find it? Or did you steal it from the person it belongs to?" Fury suffused Stanislav as he took a step forward. Before he could leap to her aid, Susan drew her free arm back and punched the man in the face. Ow! Sh**, that hurt! she exclaimed mentally. But it didn't stop her from delivering a wicked uppercut when the man released her arm and stumbled backward. Stanislav's jaw dropped. She really could handle herself.

Suspense doesn’t always have to be about physical danger. Making the reader worry is a universal concept that can be applied to any story.

Suspense was an excellent tool for keeping powerful people off balance. It gave one bargaining power.

Suspense, murder, revenge, scandal; a delicious cocktail party.

SWAT? For me?" Still trembling, one hand clung to the ambulance gurney, the other held a massive sterilised cotton wool wad under my nose. "Tactical Support was busy. You got Dennis and Arlo," said Harry, speed-reading the papers he'd snatched from inside my jacket. Closest his hands had been to my chest in a long time. "Which one broke my nose?" "That'd be Dennis.

Take me inside. Show me if a fireman knows how to start a fire.

Taking out a criminal was easier than phoning home.

Taut, intelligent, and intense suspense that is deeply human.”—Mark Greaney, New York Times Bestselling Author of Gunmetal Gray “Exciting and well-layered....David Bell is a master storyteller with a sure hand at crafting characters you feel for and stories you relish.”—Allen Eskens, USA Today Bestselling Author of The Life We Bury “A tense and twisty suspense novel about the dark secrets that lie buried within a community and a father who can save his daughter only by uncovering them. Will leave parents wondering just how well they truly know their children.”—Hester Young, author of The Gates of Evangeline and The Shimmering Road “A gripping, immersive tour-de-force full of twists and turns. BRING HER HOME kept me flipping the pages late into the night. Don’t expect to sleep until you’ve finished reading this book. I could not put it down!”—A. J. Banner, bestselling author of The Good Neighbor and The Twilight Wife “In David Bell’s riveting BRING HER HOME, the unthinkable is only the beginning. From there, the story races through stunning twists all the way to its revelation, without letting its heart fall away in the action. Intense, emotional, and deeply satisfying. This one will keep you up late into the night. Don't miss it!”—Jamie Mason, author of Three Graves Full and Monday’s Lie “Spellbinding and pulse-raising, BRING HER HOME hooked me from the first sentence and surprised me until the final pages. Sharply written and richly observed, this book is about the secrets we keep, the mysteries that keep us, and the lengths a father will go to for the daughter he loves. David Bell is a masterful storyteller who has perfected the art of suspense in BRING HER HOME.”—Sarah Domet, author of The Guineveres

The battle rages everyday. In the Arena of God

Tell me to stop, Sugar, or I'm going to start a firestorm of emotion neither one of us will know how to handle." She smiled. "I've always loved storms." He jerked her face closer and her heart rate kicked up. "Then it's time you were introduced to a Florida hurricane.

Ten years ago, I attended a community meeting for an oil pipeline proposal PE was ramming through the environmental impact process in eastern Washington. I sat in the front row as you defended PE’s plan to destroy an important Traditional Cultural Property to build a pipeline that would bisect the state from the Canadian border to the Columbia River. You had no respect for the sovereignty of tribes over the land. Your plan lacked even basic environmental protection for air and water, but you defended it because you didn’t give a fuck about air Indians breathe or water Indians drink.

Tesco at the best of times is soulless – but it’s so much worse at 6 in the morning. It’s not as empty as I thought it would be. Who the fuck shops at 6 a.m.? e florescent lights flicker. e shelf upon shelf of coloured cans make my eyes go funny. Everything is hard and shiny and there’s so much fucking choice. Why do I have to choose from thirty kinds of granola? Do I want Country Crunch or Rude Health? Raisins and almonds or tropical? Goji berries and chia seeds or Strawberry Surprise? I’ll just buy the Tesco range – that’ll be easiest. No, wait, there’s Tesco finest*, Tesco Everyday Value and Tesco Free From. What can be so damn fine about granola? You eat it everyday and what could it be free from? It hasn’t got anything unhealthy in it! What could one possibly take out? Actually, we don’t need any fucking granola.

That's the thing about digging holes,” Quinn said. “There are no assurances you'll find what you want—or want what you find.

The arms, legs, and torso with head were dragged away in sections as the children were captivated by the drama, zealously chewing their candies with sticky teeth.

The crazed man, after he was satisfied, placed his hands around the throat of the helpless Irish girl and squeezed powerfully. He continued his attack, until he was certain Beverley was dead. He turned his back to the wall and masturbated, squealing in delight when he was done. He then composed himself, straightened his clothes, and ascended the steps. Hopefully, he thought, the tide would wash away the body before morning.

The butterflies swirl again in Sera’s stomach. Perhaps they have brought along fireflies too, to light up her soul.

The concrete floor beneath the airbed was hard and uncompromising, digging into her back and making it difficult to breathe. The stale air reeked of disinfectant and shit. And something else that she couldn't quite place. Death, perhaps?

The dark edge of the moor and the Cow and Calf rock are crisp against the blue-black sky. I can’t see anyone outside, watching us. As I shut the door behind me, I hear a noise. It came from the hall. I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

The dead pull the living down.

The desperate piercing scream of horror echoed far above the sharpened tops of the trees wrapped in thin obsidian-transparent mist, and I startled jerkily, tripping again, and almost collapsed onto the cold moist ground.

The government don’t need any help creatin’ Big Brother. Folks are buyin’ up that stuff all by themselves. Cameras and microphones all over the house, watchin’ and listenin’ to everything. Their whole lives played out on social media platforms.

The fact is I'm in a serious jam.