Best 503 quotes in «supernatural quotes» category

In the absence of love, evil thrives.

In the domain of primitive spirituality, that is, supernatural spirituality, the mind loses all its sanity in the name of non-conformity and takes nonsense to be a form of higher sense and supernatural insanity and fallacy to be spiritual sanity and truth. In an attempt to break free from the chains of religious orthodoxy as well as radical rationalism, these mysticism-obsessed beings, who pompously prefer to call themselves "lightworkers", "yogis", “mystics” and so on, end up bound in yet another form of orthodoxy or extremism, replete with the primal psychological germs of supernaturalism.

In the universe, there are things that are known, and things that are unknown, and in between them, there are doors.

In this particular field of endeavour, there's not a cat in all of Japan as gifted as am I.... They say that every toad carries in it's fore-head a gem that in the darkness utters light,but packed within my tail I carry not only the power of God, Buddha, Confuscious , Love and even Death ,but also an infallible panacea for all ills that could bewitch the entire human race.

I remembered Daemon's feather soft kisses on my cheek, and I remembered the clouds parting and the sun shining on a cold February day in Ireland. And as my baby girl was laid on my chest and my husband held my hand, I saw my best friend Kat walk into the sun kissed part in the clouds, hand in hand, along with the last regrets of my past.

I rolled my eyes. To Jack I said, "Don't mind him, he's just mad no one likes him." Jonas clenched his jaw.

Is he following? Can you have a flaming gay moment or something and check?" "Why do I have to be the flaming gay one?

I sit and ponder my existence: how I'm here, what put me here in these thoughts, these feelings, birthed from a timeless sleep, what it felt like, or rather the lack thereof, to not have been and now to 'be', and suddenly, I realize how absurd I am to exist, the fragility in my understanding of existence; I then wonder why the supernatural, the thought of other beings, of God or of gods, must be distinctly absurd - by which I am no longer sure. 'If I exist and I have made myself absurd to me, then why not they exist while merely believed absurd by me?' Perhaps it is true that in a wandering head, one full of wonders, the natural becomes supernatural and the supernatural becomes preternatural (or rational within the sights of discovery and explanation), just as the return home after a life-long journey feels, for a moment, foreign after the many experiences.

I slept with her because she was hot and wanted me. Maybe we're dealing with the supernatural, but I'm still human.

I started picturing Rens smiling face, the warmth of his touch, the slight curl of his lip before he kissed me. Every happy memory came rushing back through the blackness illuminating it in brilliant color.

I tell you, my idea of a ghost is something quite different. Dead men rise up never – read even your poets. Ghosts breed in the living.

It happened during the winter of 1973, when evenings rang out stillborn from far across the weathered moorland, and snow fell hard and heavy and clung atop the peppered veins of nature’s tough bracken, all picture-postcard like.

I think magic is hard for most people to believe in, because our lives are typically without it. Sometimes the supernatural is disguised behind other things like bravery.

I replayed the moment I first saw him at the picnic throughout our years together. As corny as it may sound, from the first glance we shared near the cake stand at the picnic, the two of us remained connected like the icing on one of those made from scratch cakes...

I try to never miss the Zumba class since I believe comedy is a great way to start your week. ...It was great fun, although I had to hold myself back from turning it into a giant mosh pit slam dance. Last time I did that they kicked me out for a month. Today I enjoyed watching an 80 year old lady - with a cane no less - shimmy, her boobs flying like weapons around her waist.

I think you’re wonderful. You’re the only person I have in this awful, twisted world, and it’s incredibly scary, but if I had to fight my way through this disease of a life with one person by my side, I’m glad it’s with you. You inspire me to be stronger, and I need to be strong.

I thought: if I die, I hope I get reincarnated into a mosquito so I can bite that fucker kau-kau.

It is better to be foolish than a dilettante.

It is my greatest wish that victims of paranormal attack are treated with the respect and compassion they deserve, and that by writing this book, it will encourage others to come forward and share their stories also.

It's Coke, my man. You really think I'm going to let you pour any more alcohol into your body tonight?

It shattered like glass, and melted upon time, returning all broken parts, to its original place. An electrical mist radiated from the decease abdomen, carried away by a brightly lit beam; all vital nutrients had also transformed.

It’s rough,” Sky told her. “Going through the change. Starting at a new school, knowing no one. You don’t have your family…I relate to some of that. I just want to make this as easy for you as possible.

It's like Sheriff Daniels sneezed, and they all caught the misinformation flu.

It's only after you've lost everything that we're free to do anything. --Chuck Palahniuk

It's suicide," Doc Holland said, shaking his head. "Fools, all of them. This isn't any conventional war- this is madness." The general let out a weary breath. "No, Doctor-this is fear . . . and fear makes fools of us all.

It strikes me that religion seeks to take natural events and ascribe supernatural causes to them. I, however, seek to take supernatural events and find the natural meanings behind them. Perhaps that is the final dividing line between science and religion. Opposite sides of a card.

I think Ken should grow some balls and tell Barbie to piss off," Matt said after Ashley waved an accusing finger in Darren's (leg-puppy) face, then stomped off to a table beside a window.

It took a pair of ghosts to open my eyes.

I've always loved reading. When I was in first grade I became fascinated by time travel in the Magic Treehouse series. My love for magic continued into the second grade when I was reading Harry Potter, and then the following year I really got interested in history. So in fifth grade I decided to write a book that I would love to read. I decided to combine time travel, magic, and history, and created the Stone of Discedo. It's a time-traveling stone that requires the user to first fix three terrible events in history before they change anything in their own life, and that became the foundation for the story of One Chance.

I've been waiting for you," he murmured. Aphrodite slowly walked across the balcony, as her mind raced, trying to think of the perfect thing to say in return. All of a sudden a thought came to her that she didn't quite understand, but she knew it was right. It was also important, and would immortalize her and her actions for thousands of years to come. "Happy Valentine's Day," she purred, as she fell into his arms, still holding the box of chocolates and a single red rose.

It takes courage to throw off unproductive methods and approaches that the majority of scholars in your field have unquestioningly yoked themselves to for decades.

I waited for her to nod before pacing while I bit my lip. That hurt, so I switched to biting my finger nail.

I want to get to know you a little better.’ His hand touches mine, the briefest of touches but I still recoil my hand into the sleeve of my cardigan. His touch is blisteringly hot, I’m sure earlier today when he cupped my cheek I had burn marks. But no, it is just him, just his touch, it sends crazy little shivers throughout my entirety. ‘I don’t understand you… you said you want what you cannot have. Isn’t this a form of torture?’ ‘Does a person who wishes to lose weight not taunt themselves with sweets? Does a person not go by the same window every day, just to glimpse the piece of jewellery they long for, yet can never attain? We torment ourselves every day with things we cannot have. Perhaps it is torture, but perhaps my request is genuine.

I was just there visiting—nothing weird. I don’t get weird vibes in haunted places, never have. Was picking up (resident name omitted by request) for the first day of our carpool and her roommate walked by without a word my way. Said something to her later because I thought it was rude. I wouldn’t room with him, I told her.
 She looked at me like I was nuts. Wouldn’t you know she didn’t have a roommate?

I was reaching for one of the handles when I heard Heidler’s voice from behind me. ‘It would not be wise to enter. It is a bad time to disturb the dead.

I was too much taken up with another interest to care; I felt beneath my feet the threshold of the strange door, in my life, which had suddenly been thrown open and out of which came an air of a keenness I had never breathed and of a taste stronger than wine. I had heard all my days of apparitions, but it was a different thing to have seen one and to know that I should in all likelihood see it familiarly, as I might say, again. I was on the lookout for it as a pilot for the flash of a revolving light and ready to generalise on the sinister subject, to answer for it to all and sundry that ghosts were much less alarming and much more amusing than was commonly supposed. There's no doubt that I was much uplifted. I couldn't get over the distinction conferred on me, the exception - in the way of mystic enlargement of vision - made in my favour. ("Sir Edmund Orme")

Loaming is my special word for it..it's a combination of looming and roaming

Logically, this kind of atheism did not prove that there was no God.... On the contrary, Southwell was typical in placing the onus probandi on those who affirmed the existence of God and Holyoake regarded himself as an atheist only in his inability to believe what the churches would have him believe. They were content to show that the Christian concept of the supernatural was meaningless, that the arguments in its favor were illogical, and that the mysteries of the universe, insofar as they were explicable, could be accounted for in material terms.

Louis-Cesare slowly pulled himself into a half-standing position against the side of the winery.'What? Did you think one little mage was going to do me in?' He swallowed hard. 'Hell, that was just a warm-up.

Love yourself' is not 'Lust yourself.

Magic is what you make it.

I walked up the stairs and hesitated at the open door.

Many of the best fantastic stories begin in a leisurely way, set in commonplace surroundings, with exact, meticulous descriptions of an ordinary background, much as in a 'realistic' tale. Then a gradual - or it may be sometimes a shockingly abrupt - change becomes apparent, and the reader begins to realize that what is being described is alien to the world he is accustomed to, that something strange has crept or leapt into it. This strangeness changes the world permanently and fundamentally.

It was once said that to hide something from prying eyes you must place it where people can see it.

Magic is not something supernatural, but part of the field dynamics of nature.

Magic ran in the family. Even her mother's second cousin, who was adopted, did small spells on the side. She sold these from a stall in Kota Bharu. Her main wares were various types of fruit fried in batter, but if you bought five pisang or cempedak goreng, she threw in a jampi for free.

Magick is not a supernatural power granted by spirits or demons. True magick is a natural power which exists in every person, and we have neglected it because of misguided principles.

Martha Ridgley had been a single, working-class woman with no children or close family. Her killer had never been caught, and her case was eventually forgotten. But not by everyone—not by whoever had been paying the rent on Apartment #37 for over two decades until, for one reason or another, the lease was finally up. The Woman in Apartment #37 by John Mead from Book of the Dead

Mind you, I cannot swear that my story is true. It may have been a dream; or worse, a symptom of some severe mental disorder. But I believe it is true. After all, how are we to know what things there are on earth? Strange monstrosities still exist, and foul, incredible perversions. Every war, each new geographical or scientific discovery, brings to light some new bit of ghastly evidence that the world is not altogether the same place we fondly imagine it to be. Sometimes peculiar incidents occur which hint of utter madness. How can we be sure that our smug conceptions of reality actually exist? To one man in a million dreadful knowledge is revealed, and the rest of us remain mercifully ignorant. There have been travelers who never came back, and research workers who disappeared. Some of those who did return were deemed mad because of what they told, and others sensibly concealed the wisdom that had so horribly been revealed. Blind as we are, we know a little of what lurks beneath our normal life. There have been tales of sea serpents and creatures of the deep; legends of dwarfs and giants; records of queer medical horrors and unnatural births. Stunted nightmares of men's personalities have blossomed into being under the awful stimulus of war, or pestilence, or famine. There have been cannibals, necrophiles, and ghouls; loathsome rites of worship and sacrifice; maniacal murders, and blasphemous crimes. When I think, then, of what I saw and heard, and compare it with certain other grotesque and unbelievable authenticities, I begin to fear for my reason.

Maybe pulling her emotions out and inserting in his logic would change this morbid course. But damn if he’d joke about it like she did.