Best 757 quotes in «suspense quotes» category

I crossed the yard, wherein the constellations looked down upon me, I could have thought, with wonder, the first creature of that sort that their unsleeping vigilance had yet disclosed to them; I stole through the corridors, a stranger in my own house; and coming to my room, I saw for the first time the appearance of Edward Hyde.

I didn't burn down anyone’s house! I didn’t. I wouldn’t!” Maddie looked at Jacob. “You know I wouldn’t. I didn’t kill you when I had the chance!

I didn't look over my shoulder; there wasn't a sound behind me on the pavement, but I knew he was coming slowly after me. The crawl of the skin up and down my back told me. Little needles of warning that gathered at the back of my skull told me. I'd never known until then that the jungles aren't so very far behind us, after all, and tails, and four feet instead of two. Where else did those symptoms come from? ("Don't Wait Up For Me, Tonight")

I do not possess the ability to draw or paint. I can’t sing or dance. I can’t knit or sew. But I am an artist. I have the ability to put onto paper, words that tell an intriguing story. I am a writer. A writer is someone who, with just words, can paint a beautiful picture. A writer can open up a world of imagination you didn’t realize was possible. When you open up a book and become so consumed in the story, you feel like you’re a part of it… you’re standing next to that character and feeling the same way that character feels, That’s the art of a writer. I am an artist. My inspiration is the world around me. My paintbrush is my words. My easel is my computer. My canvas is the mind of my reader.

I don't believe in writer's block. Who can function working seven days a week at job. It's the same with writing. Take a break and let the words come to you. It rarely comes if you force it and if it does, you'll probably regret what you wrote down on paper.

I don’t believe he was deliberately taking indecent pictures, they’re too artistic; he’s managed to capture that magical moment when a child’s mind spins into a make-believe world. But actually, what Jack did is steal something – a child’s innocence – whilst creating something darker that will resonate with the adults looking at these photos: themes of sexuality and death, the leitmotifs that run through fairy tales, the stories that we tell ourselves about our children.

I don't correct her to let her know her backdoor wisdom yanks me deep into another country, where water runs uphill.

I don't know how the Wolfman knows all this, but he's not wrong. My warm cheeks turn scalding hot. "Your shame is a good sign. You may break sooner than I thought. The breaking is good. It purifies.

I don’t mind my friends calling me “Thornes,” but the fact of people calling me “Prickly Thornes” draws the line.

I don't want you to say anything. I want you to listen. You know, being confident isn't the same as being right.

Idrith didn’t want to go back to his cold lonely room, with all its unanswered questions. He took the glass and sat down. For a long while they sat without speaking, watching the flames and sipping their drinks. Idrith would have felt at peace if it weren’t for the book in Harmion’s lap.

If all goes well, we will be back in time for a proper memorial service [for your father], Ben. I promise." Ben looked up, and all the bitterness was gone from his eyes, replaced somehow by both resignation and determination. "And if all doesn't go well?" he asked, tightening his grip on Coralee's trusting hand as he led her outside to the driveway. Kira's flawless features morphed into something like a smile, yet wholly without happiness or humor. "Then you'll all be meeting up with [your father] soon enough, I expect. Either that, or you shall wish it was so.

If anyone ever saw me, they might call me a spirit, or an angel, or a ghost. They would try to describe me, but they’d be wrong. Even I didn’t know what I was. I only knew one thing—I needed to keep Michael safe.

If anyone views himself as being totally perfect in the actual sense of the word, he is undoubtedly imperfect in God's eyes. For the thought alone is one of presumption, impurity and imperfection. One may rightly strive for perfection pertaining to character and spirit, but must bear in mind that he will never reach its purest form within this human body. The fact that he has strived for it until the end has made him 'perfect' in the eyes of God.

If God gave Abraham a ram to prevent his slaying Isaac, He might stick a donkey in the bush for me to ride up this infernal mountainside.” ~ Grace Madison, PhD.

If he sees you in this apartment he will seriously murder you and then break up with me.  And I really, really don’t want him to break up with me, Linc.” “But murdering me, that’s all good?

If he doesn’t get here soon, I’m going to fall asleep, Susan grumbled. He loved hearing her voice in his head even when she was cranky. The thought made him smile. I’ve been keeping you up too late. Not really, she replied. I’ve always been a night owl. I just haven’t been sleeping late the way I usually do. And had had one scare after another whilst awake. Did I mention I’m still sore from digging your handsome ass up? He laughed. It was totally worth it, of course, she went on.But if we find out you’re single, I might hit you up for a nice long massage. He cursed when his body immediately responded to the image of her naked and laid out before him, waiting for him to run his hands all over her body. Now who’s flirting? Ooh, she purred. That’s so cool. Even in your thoughts, your voice deepens and gets all growly when you’re turned on. Before he could respond, she made a sound of impatience.Damn it. Now I’m turned on. He laughed, delighted that she inspired him to do so even in such grim circumstances.

If he slept, he dreamt of the woman with the icy white irises. She exploded planes, swallowed oceans and crumpled skies in her palm in his dreams. Sometimes she and the green-eyed girl were one. At other times, the green-eyed girl was alone, a gaping hole where her heart should have been. At all times he could hear the woman’s cold, low laughter. It swept across his consciousness like a hailstorm. When he woke up, he thought he was going mad.

If I get all that money back in the accounts and then swear it off entirely, she'll forgive me. It felt good to repeat it, besides they'd just had an amazing weekend, she still had the hots for him, she still loved him passionately. Lingering underneath that thought, though, was the other one. You're playing with fire, you're playing with fire, (see above. Repeat endlessly . . . ) The idea that Hope would forgive him when she'd given him an ultimatum so absolute was laughable. She'd follow through on her word, alright, even if she regretted it, even if she laid awake at night the rest of her life wishing she hadn't, even if IT KILLED HER, she'd still do it. That was his Hope.

If I was in deep shit with Lilian before, I was snorkeling at the waste treatment plant now.

If I’m going down, I’m going down with lipstick on.

If I want to 'f' a guy, I want to 'f' a guy.

If not for her truly sparkling personality, she would have been doomed.

If the Mob was after you, the last thing you felt was alive. If the Mob was after you, it was only a matter of time before you were as dead as a doorknob. But standing outside in the middle of winter, with the world in a coma, she felt alive.

If we were walking here together, I’d point out the carnivorous plants that grow on this spot: sundews with sticky red leaves, eating insects to sustain them because the soil is so poor. If you were with me, I’d take you to the Doubler Stones, where thousands of years ago, Neolithic peoples carved channels in the rock to drain away the blood from their sacrifices. I would show you where the plover nests, and the green hairstreak butterfly lays its eggs. I love this place. I love this land. It’s part of me, it’s part of who I am. But it’s no place for you: a seven-year-old girl in a princess costume.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s what a woman can do to a man’s common sense. Admittedly, I never thought it would happen to you.

If you can get to be you, why can't I get to be me?

If you believe it, is it real, or is it real because you believe it?

If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there".

God, sometimes I feel so . . . weak. I can't do this on my own. I'm too tired, too scared, and yet for some reason you put me here to fight this battle. It was a fight for those who couldn't fight for themselves. A fight for justice and all that should be right in the world when it wasn't. It was all she really wanted to do. Make a difference. Whether she was a schoolteacher or working beside the FBI to save a young girl.

If you focus your eyes towards the horizon, everything and everyone walking in front of you becomes a blurry mass. That's what everyone else became. All of their dark wool suits began to mesh into one, and they began to rhythmically march in unison, all while I gazed at the sliver of sky that seemed to be pressed tightly in between the skyscrapers. I kept on walking and staring at the sky, and I began to notice the skyscrapers becoming larger and larger, and before I knew it, I had to turn to get to my building, and of course, the automat.

I gave my heart away to somebody long time ago- when I was barely a man. And I never got it back.

I hate phones," he grumbled into her neck. "Seriously, I wanna go back in time and murder Alexander Graham Bell." He sat up with a groan. "Or was it Edison who invented the phone? I can never remember." She had to laugh. "I'm pretty sure it was Bell.

I had turned to leave and he had called after me. “Miss Maria, I kin no other woman who could be wearing men’s trousers and be dripping such as ye are and look quite so lovely. It’s a right shame your mother is marrying you off to that great sot!” I had turned to call back to him, “I doubt very much we will have to worry about that after today!

I know.” The two words ghosted against the skin of her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine. “But I want to touch you. I want to put my hands all over you. I want to kiss every inch of you and taste you as you come apart in my arms. I want to feel you wrapped around me with nothing but my name on your lips and the sheets a tangled mess beneath us. I want…” He exhaled heavily into her ear. “I want. I want. I want!

I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more.

I know you, Ruth Ann Carver. I know you better than you know yourself. You think you do things right. You think you're a paragon of right living. This is a self-told lie, one bolstered by your coddling parents and grandparents.

I'll carry you." But she was already holding on, and though she knew she'd have to soon, she didn't see how she'd ever be able to let go of him.

I like to write literature that reads like pulp fiction.

I’ll always come back to you,” he said. “Always.

I lock onto the most entrancing, dark eyes staring at me. I can’t bring myself to look away. They're like a well I've fallen into, and I'm willing to refuse a bucket to safety. I'm mesmerized by the depth in them. On the surface, I can see the facade he puts in place with the confidence he portrays, but his smile never reaches his eyes. Beneath the water lies a murky past. A past filled with hurt that I can feel akin to." ~ Hannah, Tragically Broken, The Broken Series

I lock onto the most entrancing, dark eyes staring at me. I can’t bring myself to look away. They're like a well I've fallen into, and I'm willing to refuse a bucket to safety. I'm mesmerized by the depth in them. On the surface, I can see the facade he puts in place with the confidence he portrays, but his smile never reaches his eyes. Beneath the water lies a murky past. A past filled with hurt that I can feel akin to." ~ Hannah

I'm giving serious thought into eating yor wife” - Hannibal Lecter

I’m also suddenly all over the idea of lust. Previously, I had scoffed at it. Sure, I looked at people and could see they were hot, or sexy, or desirable. But it had all been in my head—it wasn’t a feeling in my body. It wasn’t a force of nature, taking my breath away. It wasn’t something that made me wonder if I could actually keep my body in check, keep it from hurling itself against someone, primal and hungry and out of control.

I’m going to make an exception for you. If you want to study me – every inch of me – I’m willing to be your lab rat.” “Well, I’d need to have research questions if it’s going to be a valid scientific endeavor.

I'm dangerous for you, Abby.

I mean, how could anyone start something like this and not know how it turns out?

I'm named after my great grand-mother...while you've never heard of her, in my mind she's practically a celebrity.

I'm never afraid, I'm just preparing for pain.

I'm just not sure that I'm good enough for her. She's a top shelf drink, I'm a house poured shot.