Best 757 quotes in «suspense quotes» category

Make no mistake, my darling. I am coming for you. I will take you back.

Man has this tendency to conclude that if he can’t explain or reproduce an occurrence, it must not be possible." - Uncle Henry

Meaning, yes -- I don't really exist except on the page or in the back of your brain. But if you think it's weird a fictional character's telling this story, you ain't seen what happened, yet.

Michelle: It wasn't my house. It was owned by a brownie couple who owned it and rented out suites. There were a few long-term renters, like me, but it also functioned as a bed and breakfast to people and magical creatures passing through. A renter, like myself, was entitled to two meals a day, which made up for the microscopic kitchen. Being something of an indifferent or terrible cook, those kept me from eating fast food every day. I walked inside, barely pausing to wipe my feet on the mat. I swung to the right and stumbled into the dining room, hardly looking at the long table or who might be at it. I made a bee-line for the tea and slurped down half a mug. The hot, caffeinated beverage forced my eyes open and gave my movement some energy. While topping off my mug, I looked around and saw two unicorns, a dwarf and five shifters.

Michelle: Phone. That had to be my phone waking me up. My hand swept across the nightstand until it found the vibrating hunk of silicone. "Hello." "Michelle, It's Gordon from the Cobb County Sheriff's Office. We need you to deal with some illegally bred magical creatures." The sound of barking and shouting followed his voice. "What are they?" "We don't know. I can tell you what they look like. Henri was one of the responding and he's never heard of these things. I think they're new." Blech. I rolled out of bed to start getting dressed. Henri was an old vampire. I'm not sure how old. But old enough to take his word on something like this. "Gordon, tell me what these things look like." "I'd say someone found the stupidest chihuahua in the city and then did something to give it wings and magic." "Great! How do I get there?" I wrote down the address and a few directions. "That's the mayor's place, isn't it? "Yep and he's not happy.

Monsters are created. And they’re created by monsters."--Chris Miller, A Murder of Saints

Mum, your heart is the same size as your fist,’ she told me once in delight, and we both made our hands into fists and held them against our chests and bumped them together: hands as hearts.

My fangs extended then, automatically, like her voice were a fang charmer, and I followed impulsively, thinking about blood.

Muslims make pilgrimages to Mecca. Dylan fans make pilgrimages to Hibbing.

My body betrayed me when he was around. Something about him spoke to a darker place inside me, a feral place. A primal place entirely free of inhibitions and responsibilities.

My face flushed scarlet. I was a stranger in my own skin. I had ever felt this kind of anger in my life. Fort and confusion grew. Its sensation was an overwhelming concoction of hate. The only things I knew - the only things keeping me remotely calm- was the following litany. My name is Eleanora Ada Stone. I was moved from home to home for seventeen years. I am now living on this god-forsaken island in Maine. I was being kept from a world of secrets. I have abilities. I am not human. I do not know what I am.

[M]y grandmother and I sit across from each other at the Gryphon Tea Room, on the grandest section of Bull Street.

[M]y grandmother...had always complained that our house didn't have a profile that was "significant enough.

My husband hands me my glass, full to the brim with green-gold wine and I stifle my resentment and attempt to smile at him. I mustn’t lose sight of what we have – two beautiful children; an amazing house that I never, in a million years, thought we’d be able to afford; Gill and Andy, my best friends – and this perfect day. I take a deep breath and feel my shoulders relax. I can smell the faintest trace of heather, drifting down from the moor.

My father used to say there are two kinds of people: the noticers and the noticed

My lord, I’d rather be alone.” His smile vanished. Not a single muscle in his body bulged, but the color of his eyes turned to dark ashes. “And I’d rather not.

My membership has given me everything I've ever wanted.

My motto? Don’t trust someone who is just as cagey as yourself." "What kind of detective are you?” “A lousy one and proud of it. I write, remember?” She looked down at her hand & laughed. “Berretta doesn’t make lighters.” "Why I was a writer! My life revolved around fiction. I could make something up" "She looked down at her hand & laughed. “Berretta doesn’t make lighters.” "So they're not Tolstoy, they're a little shorter...Okay, okay a lot. Go ahead, read my mystery series anyway." "A detective has their boundaries especially me. So mine shifted occasionally...okay a lot" “Beat it, Buster. My temper and this mace have a hair trigger.” “Interference could be lethal.” I got right up in his face, hissing, “Don’t push me, I’m hormonal.” I'm not really a lousy detective, just rough around the edges.

My mistake was that I didn't kill you.

My lover is dead. And they think I killed him. I'm running rogue. Hell bent on both revenge and redemption. Whatever it takes, I'm going to finish a job that began nine months ago. An unauthorized assignment that turned horribly, devastatingly wrong. My miscalculation. My fault. My heart left shattered into incomplete pieces which will never wholly fit back together again. But first I have to outsmart my former organization and the hired killer they've sent after me; a ghost from my past who knows my every move, who’s been inside my head, my heart, my dreams and memories: Jaxson. I'm the traitor, Kylie. The rogue mercenary, Jaxon's newest assignment. And this is our love story.

my new website is now live on www.danielborough.com There are free short stories to download on it. Have fun!

Nadira woke up encompassed in emptiness.

Não deixes faminto um instinto que te fira, E nem tentes engana-lo com uma mentira. Jamais penses em agredir a um leão ferido, pensando que assim já o terás por vencido. Ele vai se recuperar tao rápido quanto come, e revidar, vorazmente, com ainda mais fome.

Never confuse lust for anything other than what it is. There isn't a man alive that wouldn't gladly take what you are so willing to offer." "Any but you, apparently." -Eric to Camile, Pawn of Innocence

Nobody saw what happened next, or else nobody admitted to it. A couple of people said they saw the Kid stand up, turn around quickly, and sit down again. But neither of those people was there at the time. The teacher had turned her back to the class and was writing on the board. She heard something and looked around. Gordon Ritchie was coming towards her, reaching for her, whimpering. The Kid’s pen was sticking out of Gordon’s face. The Kid had stabbed him with it, stabbed him so hard that it pierced his cheek and impaled his tongue. The teacher backed away from Gordon, trying to take in what she was seeing. Bubbles of blood were coming out of his mouth. Some of the children ran out of the room. Others screamed or cried. The Kid just sat at his desk, as though there had been no interruption to the class.

Never give up no matter how tough the road seems,keep going and visualize yourself in the realm of what you are going to achieve.

Never trust a woman hoarding a half-eaten bag of M&M's.

Next to God, Family is the best thing.

Never give up, Never surrender!!!!! If you think you can't, then you must, if you must, then you can..Tony Robbins

No living person could disappear like Sofia. She’d have a go-bag stashed somewhere. Money and passports and disguises, with just enough ice to evaporate.

No matter how offensive she's been to me, she continues to act as if she has some sort of God-given right to keep coming back for more favors.

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

No matter which way you dice it, self-preservation is selfish.

No matter what her father wanted, no way was Clara going to partner up with Light Walker. He'd suggested a tarantula for a snack, for heaven's sake. The were never, ever, ever going to work together.

No se puede escribir una novela o componer una canción, no se puede acordar una adquisición o ampliar una oferta sin una completa dedicación a la tarea que se tiene entre manos.

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.

No matterwhat he did to make Claire’s life better or show her he’d changed, these memories would always linger in the recesses of his mind. For the rest of his life, he’d know what he’d done. Tony hated himself for all of it—hell, he always had the end justifies the means argument, but even he didn’t believe that anymore. Not now. Not now that he knew Claire and loved Claire.

No one in Cattaraugus had much idea of what an artist’ colony might be. “Art” itself was viewed with suspicion, scorn. There was the sense, as people like my mother conveyed it, of a fraud, a hustle. “Art” was putting something over on someone, the way politicians did. “Art” was a sorry excuse for not being productive, useful. “Art” was vanity, pretension.

Nothing is ‘wrong’ with me, Dan. What’s wrong with you? she said in the same eerily quiet voice, dark eyes fixated on Dan, as she breathed heavily.

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.

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

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.