Best 757 quotes in «suspense quotes» category

The fact is I'm in a serious jam.

The house sits on a gentle curving street that ends in a cul-de-sac. The surrounding houses are all equally attractive and well maintained, and relatively similar. People who live here are successful and settled; everyone's a little bit smug.

The French know the intrinsic value of holding on to the past, its pleasures, its promises, and its tender mercies.

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 heartache of your brother and your best friend? I mean, Hayes if it's not your business, then whose business is it?

The list of lifesavers left him numb, clueless - the action, indifferent.

The Internet is the biggest double-edged sword in our technological history, but it’s not going anywhere.

The moment you stop chasing happiness, you become happy.

The moor has always been part of my life. It’s like a muse: the colours of the heather and the sky; how you can see the savagery of the wind in the way the dwarf pine trees are bent double, the bleak lines of the landscape in winter when everything save the moss and the grass are dead, stones like bones, poking through a thin skin of bilberry bushes, rushes reflected in black bog water.

The moon shines like a freshly unwrapped cheese ball at the holidays.” -William Harrison in Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project

The mosquitos are so big they eat you alive wear your shoes.

The new Mrs. Ethan Baxter, I presume?” “Was there an old Mrs. Baxter?” she asked. He merely laughed.

The idea that the spirits of those once tortured in the house might still be there was the avenue his imagination began to explore. The groaning of the wood sounded like screams from the dungeon and the clunking pipes were the implements of torture. His bedcovers seemed to offer less protection than they had done in his younger years, he felt naked and at the mercy of his thoughts, and it wasn’t long before the skull he’d seen in the cellar had a face, manifested by fear and imagination.

The image of him shifted with the violent frenzy of leaves. He was there and he wasn’t, as the leaves whipped and the lightning fell away in a slow strobe effect across the expanse of sky. How he had gotten up there, I had no idea, but he had been there. Crouched in the tree in the middle of the courtyard, he watched me intently through the open window.

The man breathed deeply with his eyes shut and his speech trailed off. Nick approached the patient with the syringe in hand, nodding. He turned the machine up now, almost all the way, and then proceeded with the injection. "I think you're about ready.

The mirror sighed and spoke in a tone tinged with melancholy. Its language was old and not of any of the worlds known or unknown. What you dream, what you darkly desire, Find it by trial or by fire. Seek it high and seek it low, Search the skies or the realms below. Look everywhere but beware, The deepest magic, the strongest spell Will not change what the stars foretell.

The moment seemed endless, but it was probably only half that.

The northern star changes its position every ten thousand years, but friendships can last for all eternity. — RJPeters

Then someone within closed the door, shutting Norah out into the howling dust of the night. The clouds parted briefly to reveal the full moon's cold eye, then closed again. Wind seared over the pavilion's double roof, its voice rising to a shriek. Distantly, among the maze of walls, came the frenzied barking of hundreds of tiny dogs. As she drifted towards wakefulness, Norah could not tell whether it was the wind that she heard just at the end, or whether, within the dark hall, the girl had begun to scream.

The old joke is that psychiatrists are doctors who can't stand the sight of blood. Maybe they can't stand it, but if they work where I work, they damn well better get used to it. At least surgeons and prizefighters get to wear gloves

The one ring, to rule them all’? Sounds very far-fetched to me!

The only thing that tipped her off that it was a man was his stocky build, heavy footsteps, and muscles. Muscles she'd felt when he caught up to her and threw her to the ground. Sticks and leaves from the forest floor stuck in her hair, and her breath came out in shallow gasps as she tried to regain the ability to see.

The orchestra strikes up with ‘Stockholm in My Heart’, and everyone joins in. Hands sway in the air, mobile phone cameras are raised. A wonderful feeling of togetherness. It will be another fifteen minutes until, with meticulous premeditation, the whole thing is torn to shreds. Let us sing along for the time being. We have a long way to go before we return here. Only when the journey has softened us up, when we are ready to think the unthinkable, will we be permitted to come back.

The past is just that.

The Piper's playing again, and there's a full orchestra.' There was a long silence as Andrew deciphered the cryptic statement. 'A FULL orchestra?

The Professor is coming...

The reader is the final arbiter.

The reality and what it meant was slowly dawning: the betrayal, deception, and omission. Clandestine meetings. Evasion under questioning. In hindsight, Dana and Evan picked out the clues they’d missed, reevaluated the moments they’d been led astray, and tiptoed over possible theories as to how they’d been duped.

There are people in this world so rich that when it rains they simply fly away on private jets in search of sun.

The reason stories have dramatic tension is because LIFE has dramatic tension.

There is a distinct difference between "suspense" and "surprise," and yet many pictures continually confuse the two. I'll explain what I mean. We are now having a very innocent little chat. Let's suppose that there is a bomb underneath this table between us. Nothing happens, and then all of a sudden, "Boom!" There is an explosion. The public is surprised, but prior to this surprise, it has seen an absolutely ordinary scene, of no special consequence. Now, let us take a suspense situation. The bomb is underneath the table and the public knows it, probably because they have seen the anarchist place it there. The public is aware the bomb is going to explode at one o'clock and there is a clock in the decor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions, the same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: "You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!" In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that whenever possible the public must be informed. Except when the surprise is a twist, that is, when the unexpected ending is, in itself, the highlight of the story.

There is always something behind patience and impatience! Be careful enough to understand these two things any time you meet anybody; the patience and impatience of the person!

There is life and there is death, but on the border, where one shades into the other, there is the In Between. "...[M]ost people go through life without even knowing that it's there.

There is good weird and good strange and bad weird and bad strange. Your Daddy is good weird and good strange.

Then, if you want, we can bring her back to New York and keep her safe. If she means that much to you, she means that much to me.” My head continued to move from side to side. “Who the fuck are you?” Nox leaned close, his cologne clouding my thoughts. “I’m Batman, princess. Next time you want to fly across the country, tell me. I won’t delay two hundred people’s plans, and we can just fly in the bat plane.

There's no question how strong you are." Gabe rested his fingers on her shoulders and pressed into the tight muscles. She didn't push him away. "But being strong doesn't mean you have to be alone.

THERE WAS ALWAYS a boy in your life that common sense and the prayers of parents told you to stay away from: fast talker, fast car, and fast hands. He was the boy your father kept a loaded shotgun by the door for and met on the front porch if he ever thought about venturing onto his property…let alone the threshold. He was the tall, dark, mysteriously handsome, and uncharacter-istically quiet one that made you wonder what was going on in his head, and that little voice in your head said it wasn’t always so honorable. He was the boy you broke all of the rules over because bad-boys equaled excitement and the rebel in you liked the ride.

There was an infinitesimal pause while he watched her face, as though he half expected her to recognise it, before he went on, 'My friends call me Thorn,' and gave her a smile of such devastating charm that she blinked. Her hand clasped in his, her senses zinging from his touch and that stunning smile, she stared into his dark, handsome face until, realising that she was gawking at him like some overgrown schoolgirl, she withdrew her hand and asked quickly, 'What do your enemies call you?

There was a spider…

There was one night in the past six months she had no recollection of. One night where she woke up the next morning covered in someone else's blood. One night she was most vulnerable.

Then his eye was in my mouth, a string of bloody nerves dangling from my lips. I couldn’t believe how easily it came out. Even the feel and taste of it wouldn’t have convinced me if I hadn’t been looking straight into his fountaining red socket as I listened to him scream.

There was a gap of three metres between us at that point and it seemed as if neither of us dared to close it. I stared at her, she stared at me, and all of a sudden the world seemed too silent, too cold and too still for comfort.

There was a bright flash of brilliant white light, like the midday summer sun reflecting off of a freshly cleaned mirror. And then it was gone.

There was no mistaking her daughter's handwriting. And the words... "If you're reading this, I'm already dead.

There were reasons she stayed behind her barriers, reasons she was the way she was. And she'd be damned if she risked it all for a scowling man behind a beard. She'd learned the hard way once before. Never again, she promised herself. Never again.

There you are! Aren't you precious?

The right things often happen for the wrong reason.

The Roar of the engine penetrated through Bertram's Hotel from the street outside. Colonel Luscombe perceived that Ladislaus Malinowski was one of Elvira's heroes. "Well," he thought to himself, "better than one of those pop singers or crooners or long-haired Beatles or whatever they called themselves." Luscombe was old-fashioned in his views of young men.

The shriek cut thinly though the drizzling dimness, holding for a long moment. At last it broadened and dropped to the old.

These were not the belongings of the past prisoner he had imagined. These were a lady’s things—hairpins and stockings and a glove. There were more clues waiting but William no longer felt certain he wanted to know the dark secrets of this cell.