Best 503 quotes in «supernatural quotes» category

She had yet to actually call him by his real name. The psychologist in him had all kinds of theories as to why. The man in him wanted to hear her say it. Just once.

She loved her mother, but she loved Kestrel more than her own life.

She wanted to freeze the hands of time. Wanted to revisit, revise and rewrite the past…edit out the monsters hell-bent on taking the lives of everyone she loved.

She pointed a finger at him. "Smart men don't comment on a woman's eating habits, regardless of how many brownies she can shove in her mouth at one time." He laughed. "In that case, I guess I'm not as smart as you think I am.

Shimmel: “NEVER TRUST THE GOYIM. They are just like these other weird dangerous people, Messianic Jews! How dare Jews become “Christian-like”, Messianic? We should cherem (ban) them from every aspect of Jewish life. And we must strip them of every Jewish privilege!

She waited for him to go on, but he simply gaped at her, lost for words. "Doc Grey, do you want me?" she asked before she could stop herself. "Vera, I..." He stopped abruptly. "I..."... "I asked you a question." The words came out breathier than she'd intended. She stepped closer, until their bodies were less than an inch apart, and stared up into his gorgeous, honey-brown eyes. He met her gaze, and she saw a spark behind his irises that could only be described with one word: desire.

Six years of dreams would end in eternal love, or an eternity of loss.

Sir Arthur, I have devoted a lot of time and thought to this illusion ... I won’t tell you how it was done, but I can assure you it was pure trickery. I did it by perfectly normal means. I devised it to show you what can be done along these lines. Now, I beg of you, Sir Arthur, do not jump to the conclusion that certain things you see are necessarily “supernatural,” or the work of “spirits,” just because you cannot explain them....

So it’s fate then?” I asked with him so close my lips brushed the line of his jaw with each word, “Us being together?” “Absolutely,” Calvin said with a low growl. Then he lifted my chin, tilting my head back, and kissed me deeply. Who was I to argue with Fate?

Silent as shadows. Bold as night. Calm as wind. One shall die tonight.

Some ghosts or felt presences may simply be the essence of another living person projected outward while sleeping.

So,” Lauren said. “You help ghosts with unfulfilled wishes cross over to the astral plane for judgment.” “Yes.” “And you hunt demons.” “Yes.” “And you’re married to an angel.” “Yes.” She paused. “…so basically, you’re Dean Winchester.” I made an exasperated sound. “I am NOT.” She smirked. “Yeah, sure.

[...] Sivesh cried one name aloud. It was the name of Azhrarn, and in that name was all the pain and loneliness and despair and accusation that any mortal throat could utter.

Some people don’t care about Christianity at all unless it can make them drunk or high “in the spirit.” They use and abuse God and Christianity just like they would use any other substance in their life. They search for the experiences, but not God.

Sometimes good people do bad things.

Sometime later, I stood watching the cold rain fall, when suddenly I felt Daemon's arms around me and his lips on my neck. He loved my pregnant body and his hands roamed over it under the warm terrycloth of my bathrobe. I was lost in the moment, content to stay here forever...lost in the cold rain and welcoming warmth of Dublin, and lost in the arms of my husband. Since we arrived early this morning we were in our room, making love and sleeping, lost in a fairy tale moment, savoring every caress.

Something like panic struck at Hurlow. Moffat's calm confession of fear withdrew the prop upon which he had leaned. Down there, among the motionless shadows, lurked invisible things, things that were nameless, shapeless and malignant; things which could see without being seen. One of the long lost terrors of childhood returned to him, and like a child he put his hand into Moffat's.

So pervasively has Enlightenment culture’s anti-supernaturalism affected the Western church, especially educated European and North American Christians, that most of us are suspicious of anything supernatural.

Sophie was a walking truth serum. If she was touching bare skin, she could yank the truth out of you like a loose tooth. I’d spent several unpleasant hours in her company during the Council’s screening process for humans who planned to work with vampires. That’s when I learned that you don’t refer to Buffy, the Winchesters, or even the Frog Brothers from The Lost Boys in front of Council officials. They do not have a sense of humor about that sort of entertainment.

Sounds like I’m the man of your dreams…

Spirituality lies in acts of compassion and conscience, not in supernatural nonsense. One may babble ceaselessly about positive frequencies, healing vibrations, nourishing stones and crystals, but all these are not indicative of a spiritual existence, if anything, they are only signs of stupidity and ignorance masquerading as higher knowledge.

Such a pity, really; the prey falling for the predator. The victim in love with the killer... A mere mortal girl thinking a demon was capable of love.

Supernatural fiction contains its own generic borderland: a neutral territory, which Tzvetan Todorov calls 'the fantastic,' between 'the marvelous' and 'the uncanny.' According to Todorov, 'The fantastic is that hesitation experienced by a person who knows only the laws of nature, confronting an apparently supernatural event.' Once the event is satisfactorily explained (and sometimes it is never explained), we have left the fantastic for an adjacent genre - either 'the uncanny,' where the apparently supernatural is revealed as illusory, or 'the marvelous,' where the laws of ordinary reality must be revised to incorporate the supernatural. As long as uncertainty reigns, however, we are in the ambiguous realm of the fantastic.

Such tricks hath strong imagination

Tangled onto the shuttle, we were being woven back and forth to create the same tapestry of despair and heartbreak and loss. It was so much bigger than I could see before, and all I had done was stand at the centre of the web and feed it my anger and frustration and jealousy.

Tell me, Eric,” he said, licking a droplet from the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever tasted blood?”        My mouth was so dry I could barely find the voice to answer him. “What an odd question...”        “But a valid one. Well, have you?”        “I’ve cut my lip before, so yes, I suppose I have tasted blood, but...”        “Not your own, you foolish boy.” He let out a short, derisive laugh and leaned in so that he was only a few inches from my face. “I mean the blood of another.”        “Good God, Stefan, of course not!”        “Pity...

Supernatural is spiritual.

That the earth in its course stood still; that a she-ass spoke; that a storm was quieted by a word, we do not believe, and we shall never again believe.

That is why I take the younger ones, you see. You already give parts of your hearts away so easily--little fragments attached to celebrities, to hobbies, to ill-fated love affairs. Your kind have the best chance at survival.

The atheist might have no proof for the supernatural, but they also have no proof against it. If we start at a neutral position of not knowing, we can't move away from it until we have proof or evidence either way.

The biggest question, transcending physics and the realm of how he was able to do the extraordinary things he did, remained firmly rooted in the realm of metaphysics and begged an answer to why he could do these things.

The best and only way to minister supernaturally is by being yoked to Jesus, just making yourself into His servant, walking in His ways and imitating Him. Allow Him to change you!

That settles it, no more books about vampire before bedtime.

That’s funny. You would think after being followed and shoved into a dark alley by a stranger, you would be at least a little shaken. Don’t tell me, you are a black belt just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” He laughed soundlessly. “I mean your words do sound brave but your eyes and the fact that you’re trembling like a scared little kitten say something else entirely.” Even though the alley was submerged in darkness and shadows, it was obvious there was a devilish grin stretched across his face...

The child might fear to be born and the mother to give birth, yet neither can choose otherwise when the time is come. Neither have I a choice. This is my only path.

The circumstances of our lives are pieces of a larger scheme in the puzzle of life, and in His Perfect Wisdom, the pieces fit.

The demon is crouched in the corner, between the Cheetos and the onion dip. It’s a small one, only about four feet tall: a low-level creeper. I flick my gaze over the spot like I don’t see it and open the cooler door to get a Coke.

The Devil always takes back his own.

The doctor from the mainland came and went. Silence settled over the island again, like a displaced curtain falling back in thickened, heavier folds. For there was a different quality in the silence now. It had tasted something, rich food on which it had long been thinly rationed. Shadowy things were trooping up, called by that scent of blood, like flies that smell carrion. They were not strangers to the old house; they had been ill-fed and at a distance, now they were hungry and avid and near.

The British call junzi a "gentleman," no surprise. The Americans have no gentlemen, so they translate junzi as "the superior man." The Germans have no gentlemen either, and "superior man" is reserved, so they call junzi an "edler" meaning a person of noble blood. To sum up, all Europeans call junzi anything but junzi, which is quite a scandal.

The brain had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, made grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving masks.

The difference between vampires and angels? Angels are real.

The fantastic postulates that there are forces in the outside world, and in our own natures, which we can neither know nor control, and these forces may even constitute the essence of our existence, beneath the comforting rational surface. The fantastic is, moreover, a product of human imagination, perhaps even an excess of imagination. It arises when laws thought to be absolute are transcended, in the borderland between life and death, the animate and the inanimate, the self and the world; it arises when the real turns into the unreal, and the solid presence into vision, dream or hallucination. The fantastic is the unexpected occurrence, the startling novelty which goes contrary to all our expectations of what is possible. The ego multiplies and splits, time and space are distorted.

The evidence never seemed to matter to those in power, who had already made up their minds and did what people typically do when their worldview is threatened by new data: they attacked the messenger.

The gentle waters poured from the heavens, baptizing the two angels in a healing shower that washed away their differences, lifting the veil from their sight, and they knew they were the same.

The hardest thing to do often comes with no earthly reward; but it supernaturally affects eternity, so it turns into huge deposit in heaven.

The first thing you lose when you die is your motor skills.

The first time she saw the boy across the classroom, Ah Lee knew she was in love because she tasted durian on her tongue.

The land of Feyland didn't seem to have a discernible ecology – instead, rushing waves and sunny beaches gave way in the space of moments to snowy mountainsides and harsh, jutting cliffs.

The leopard appeared and transformed before her eyes into her father, and she didn’t quite know how to react.