Best 757 quotes in «suspense quotes» category

Nothing to see here. I'm not the rogue operator you're gunning for.

Notice the way the dirt feels under your feet, how great the air smells, how beautiful the trees are, how calm and majestic.” He snorted, and she could tell he was fighting not to roll his eyes as he asked, “Calm as opposed to what? All the other trees that run around like headless chickens?

Not writing is never an option. This is not words of advice. It's just literally never an option!

Now, a month later, I sit, foggy, a similar state of mind, in a different seafood restaurant with a locals-know-every-secret bar, two happy hour martinis downed, fidgeting with my napkin below the lip of the table, and I barely hear Wendy ask me another question. She brought a bag of them tonight.

No wonder Thanksgiving was my favorite—you can't buy it, wrap it, or put it under a tree, and even the greeting card companies can't seem to make a buck off of it. It's just a meal, with people who you love and who love you back, no matter what.

Oh, here we go, firing questions right and left. I sort of missed that part. [Mina's most endearing trait?]

Oh, God. Not again.” Not again? “Do you make a habit of driving into people’s houses?

Oh my God. I didn't. I couldn't have. No. no, no. Holy Crap, I did. I just shot Jason Pierce in the chest with a taser.

Oh my," she said as though to herself. "The rumors are true, you have been kept in the dark.

Oil and Water, Daddy calls us. At four years younger than me, Katie is only fourteen and she already has half the boys in town eating from her pretty little hand. She tells me I am too tall and too wicked looking to capture the heart of any sensible young man.

One can only hear the chirping of birds, the quacking of ducks, and the echoes of one's mind.

One can talk good and shower down roses, but it's the receiver that has to walk through the thorns, and all its false expectations.

One morning, as he sat at his desk, he heard the sound of a horse's hooves on the path outside his house. He stepped out on to the verandah. There, on a tall grey horse, sat Morgane. 'I've come to have my picture painted,' she said. She took off her hat and her long black hair cascaded below her shoulders. 'You said you would,' she added, before dismounting. She wore a pair of moleskin jodhpurs and a white shirt, open at the neck. Her skin was radiant from the African sun.

...[O]ne of the first things a Magnolia League debutante learns: Keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself.

Only God is the Giver and Master of Creativity and imagination because they are gifts that can only come from Him Alone!

Paranoia. The more you think of an imaginary problem, the more you feel as though it’s real –

Only I was capable of saving her now, and that, as far as anyone could argue, may have made me worse than all the devils and the demons, but it also, more accurately, made me better than all the angels and gods.

Open your heart and find your Destiny

Passing him with frightening speed, I see him sailing downward with his open parachute. “It won’t open!” “Pull harder!” Looking down, I estimate that at this speed it will only be a matter of seconds before I collide with the black lava rocks below. They rigged it! is all I can think. President Volkov won. I lost. I failed Gemma. I failed Nicholas. I failed myself. All of a sudden, someone rams into me from behind and hooks his arms and legs around my body. I look back and see Cory. “You’re crazy!” I scream as we spin out of control. “I know!” He smiles like he really is, but he feeds off of this kind of insanity. “Hold on!” The ground is so close and I can see the green grass and smell the scent of it mixed with the sulfur. He helps me turn around and I lock my arms around his thick shoulders, my legs around his firm hips. We’ll die together, and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. He really is insane!

Postmen have a legendary aura. A ring at the doorbell may inflame a sense of expectation, suspense, secrecy, hazard or even intrigue. Ringing twice may imply a warning that trouble is on the way or an appeal to make the coast clear. Not all mailmen, though, will ring twice and await an eye-catching Lana Turner, whom they can whisper: "With my brains and your looks, we could go places.” ("The postman always rings twice")

Placing his suitcase on the seat next to him, he unbuttoned his suit jacket, loosened up his necktie and removed his fedora. He kept his custom eye wear on and made himself comfortable, looking more like a Wall Street accountant than the cold killer he'd become...

Perhaps the palms had been whispering warnings in the sultry breeze.

Please tell me about it. You have been honest with me about my appearance, and that is of great help to me. It allows me to be prepared, to keep my composure. Something must have happened within the royal family before I arrived here. You must help me understand, so I can again prepare for whatever challenges it may bring." "Dear Lady Lalak, much has happened and much has passed. You need not be troubled about such past events. . . We are still trying to recover from the Kan attack." "Yes, I am learning of the Kan attack and its aftermath. What I speak of, I believe, is more personal to Pakal. If you know, I plead to you for the truth. I can bear knowing, but I cannot bear being kept ignorant of things that will affect my future here.

¡Por favor se los suplico!” gritaba. Pero el corazón de los seres humanos es más frío que el hielo de las montañas.

Quick! What aisle are the douches in? I've got three bitches at the beach cottage and they all stick to high heaven."... "You do carry Massengill, don't you? That's the best brand, according to my research." "Ah..." What kind of man researches douches? A man who goes to bed with three women... "Would you mind checking your inventory in the back? I'll need more." "I'm not allowed to leave the register, but I'll be happy to page our stock boy." Douche-man grunted and flipped the package around. "It's gonna take at least two boxes for Loa. She's big. Got wide hips. Skinny legs, though. Kinda like a twenty-gallon tank on toothpicks.

Professor, when people say such things after impossibility smacks them in the face, we call it denial

Pulling the threadbare sheet over her shoulder, she rolled onto her side away from him. Cries, deep and gun-wrenching built in her chest, threatening to steal away what air was left in her lungs. She didn't care that Bucket Man sat a foot away, witnessing her lose what grip she had left on reality. She had nothing. Her memory was gone and she was already half dead. Her only friend was agony, and she was the daughter of a monster.

—Quería preguntártelo algún día, cuando fuera el momento adecuado, pero hemos comenzado a hablar…[…]—La miró a los ojos mientras le acariciaba la mejilla con los nudillos—. Estoy ante ti sin nada, bella, solo te entrego a mí mismo y mis sentimientos.

Que difícil era saber lo que era real y lo que no

Quote taken from Chapter 1: That's the idea. Listen, Frank, this one is different. She's a keeper." He let that part gel in me. "Get your head screwed on straight and move to Richmond. You hate it living in Pelham.

Rage and despair shook her for minutes or hours. She was unaware of the passage of time. Finally spent, she retreated inward and collapsed onto the floor in a fetal position, the letter in shreds around her. The room had grown dark. Like a gentle snowfall, the cold mantle of an unbearable silence descended.

Random line from BURNING DARKNESS: Fonda Raine stepped out of the back end of a month in hell a hardened warrior, ready to undertake the most important task of her life: kill Eric Aruda.

Reacher was the kind of guy who solved all problems as permanently as possible.

Read my book and you shall know thee

Random lines, Beyond the Darkness: "Playing 'tag, you're it' against a car is a bad idea.

Red glowing eyes... No one could see her. No one could hear her. No one was coming to save her. Because Death had come sooner than expected.

Recuerda lo que valga la pena recordar. Ignora el resto.

Regarding both Misty and myself he was egotistical, rude, obnoxious, condescending, insensitive, and mean-spirited⎯and those are his good qualities.

Reunion will come.

Rene Caron takes my breath away!

Rolling like a steely pinball down the slope, Evania bounced off bumpers made of trees and rocks with her eyes glued toward the diminishing horizon. She landed soundly – once exhausted flippers made their last flap to hurl her upward, to the water’s edge. Tilt. - Campsite Six - Chapter 28

Robbins had opened Gabby up. Her charred skin was peeled back, and her ribs were removed. She was pink inside, like steak that had been burned on a high heat but remained raw in the middle.

Sarucha (age 8): "Look, down there, I recognize it, ciudad de Jerusalén (the city of Jerusalem)! Jerusalén!, Jerusalén!" she exclaimed.

Sandy’s was one of those places that made poor, white trash feel like high-class consumers. This was the kind of place you’d take your mistress to, but never your wife. Wives expected better. Mistresses were impressed by the blandness of the over-priced wine and the vast Italian menu options.

SABINE THINGS HAVE BECOME SO DIFFICULT. I MUSTN'T WRITE AGAIN. THIS WHOLE AFFAIR HAS GOTTEN TOO INTENSE. TOO REAL, SABINE, YOU DON'T EXIST. I INVENTED YOU. YOU, THE CARDS, THE STAMPS. THE ISLANDS, YOU'RE A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION. I WAS LONELY AND I WANTED A FRIEND. BUT I'M ALMOST OUT OF CONTROL. I'VE STARTED TO THINK I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU. BEFORE IT TAKES ME OVER IT HAS TO STOP. GOODBYE. GRIFFIN

Shadowed beneath his brow bone were cold dark eyes containing secrets and sadness, bitterness and grief.

Secrets are dark things. They don’t exist in the light. They glow faintly in forgotten corners, in mysterious mind-nooks, in lost memory maps. Secrets are the shadows of the soul.

She barely saw him through the darkness, but her throbbing arm was enough to announce his presence. Hot breath blew against her ear, raising goosebumps on her neck. "If I can't have you, nobody can.

She could hear the voice of her childhood, could see a younger version of herself plucking petals off a flower. He loves me; he loves me not. (She) left the petals alone, not ready to hear the answer. The fragrance of the flowers danced around her; and in her mind, or memory, or both, she could hear a song. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be transported there. He stood in a black suit looking painfully handsome; she wore a green dress wishing he would see her…really see her. It was easy and comfortable. They swayed slowly, lost in the melody, the moment. His hand on her waist, her hand on his shoulder, their fingers clasped tightly together. He loves me; he loves me not.

She dribbled water over his neck and back. The towel didn't quite soak up all of it, and drops raced down his back, trailing the curve of his spine. She loved that curve, framed on either side by ripple after ripple of muscle, and she especially loved the way it dipped in at his waist before flaring onto his perfect, rounded backside.