Best 503 quotes in «supernatural quotes» category

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 images start to darken and she feels another hunger well up in her, this one having to do with another kind of desire. The desire to feed, to possess, and the aggressive thrill of a predator capturing and killing its prey as it tears into unspoiled flesh. Its teeth ripping and rending and the satisfying coppery taste of blood. There is the ultimate moment of surrender of drinking away the life essence. The pinnacle of lust which mounts in the very last breath, when the light drains from the victim's eyes and when the soul fades... Then there is only a triumphant cry to the moonlight and the beckoning depths of the ever waiting water.

The mirror had no power. The mirror was just a piece of silvered glass; the enchantment was all in me.

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 moment you are wrapped up in the world, you become blind to the things wrapped in the mysteries.

The more you miss something, the greater the appeal.

Then her imagination ran away with her. In Beckit’s head, her super-hot former stalker was just about to kiss all of her sorrows away. In real life, he was simply removing a small glop of toothpaste that had ended up on the outside of Beckit’s mouth. Nice. Wonderful. Faaantastic. Beckit cringed inside as her embarrassment was rivaled only by her newfound hatred for wandering fluoride.

Then the one called Raltariki is really a demon?" asked Tak. "Yes—and no," said Yama, "If by 'demon' you mean a malefic, supernatural creature, possessed of great powers, life span and the ability to temporarily assume virtually any shape—then the answer is no. This is the generally accepted definition, but it is untrue in one respect." "Oh? And what may that be?" "It is not a supernatural creature." "But it is all those other things?" "Yes." "Then I fail to see what difference it makes whether it be supernatural or not—so long as it is malefic, possesses great powers and life span and has the ability to change its shape at will." "Ah, but it makes a great deal of difference, you see. It is the difference between the unknown and the unknowable, between science and fantasy—it is a matter of essence. The four points of the compass be logic, knowledge, wisdom and the unknown. Some do bow in that final direction. Others advance upon it. To bow before the one is to lose sight of the three. I may submit to the unknown, but never to the unknowable.

The only way, I thought to myself, that this could get any weirder would be if it turns out he has that dead body's head on ice where in the basement, some ready for transplantation onto Cindy Crawford's body as soon as it becomes available.

The Paco's Loco Tacos sign on my right lures me in. Not for the first time, I wonder if the tacos are crazy, if Paco is crazy, or if we are crazy for buying them. Well, I personally think a touch of crazy is one of the spices of life.

There are... otherwise quite decent people who are so dull of nature that they believe that they must attribute the swift flight of fancy to some illness of the psyche, and thus it happens that this or that writer is said to create not other than while imbibing intoxicating drink or that his fantasies are the result of overexcited nerves and resulting fever. But who can fail to know that, while a state of psychical excitement caused by the one or other stimulant may indeed generate some lucky and brilliant ideas, it can never produce a well-founded, substantial work of art that requires the utmost presence of mind.

There is a supernatural force within the workings of love that none of us, not even scientists, can deny.

There is at least one truth in every myth.

There is no such thing as a miracle. That is, there is never an absolute reversal of any natural law. Every event, however unexpected by us, who are all more or less grossly ignorant of Nature and of Nature's laws, is the result of pre-existing causes, which develop results in ways and to extents strictly conformable to the energies set in motion. Supernormal events maybe, but nothing is supernatural.

There is nothing supernatural. There are only the things in this world that we understand, the things that we don't understand, and made up crap.” The last part of that saying was always the best bit. “Pray at the alter of each of these things, my darlings.” She would be smirking by then.” They all work in their own way.

There never was any separate and supernatural trinity - it has always been the human mind playing the triangle.

There's a danger and a beauty to the moment which seems out of time. It pierces something deep inside of him, bypassing his rationale, and it touches his very core. In a sudden shock of illumination, and of knowing, he recognizes this woman is his destiny, and their fates are intertwined.

There's a queer streak in human natures. Men come back to places for secret reasons, for feelings they cannot resist.' More than men come back,” I said.

There’s a head inside the ball?” Surefire turned a shade paler along the edges of her face paint. “It is good,” Coatl responded. “Makes the ball lighter, bounce farther.” “You always want to get a head in the game,” Raven added.

There's no rule that says you have to be a prodigy to be a hero," she insisted. "If people wanted to stand up for themselves or protect their loved ones or do what they believe in their hearts is the right thing to do, then they would do it. If they wanted to be heroic, they would find ways to be heroic, even without supernatural powers.

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.

They're similar to the human idea of the sandman. They used to help people sleep. Now they're more prone to creating nightmares that end in death." Lucky's description of the dream weavers.

They may love you', she whispered, 'but they'll never understand.

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

The physical world we live in is just the beginning.

The reality of who you are, and the potential of your life, is not based on your natural circumstances. What the people around you or society has to say about you has no bearing on it. Who you are is based only on who your supernatural Creator is, and what He says is true about you. He sees the Gold. He put it there.

There are no ghosts. Belief in ghosts is a backward idea, a superstition and a sign of cowardice. This is a matter of common sense today among people.

There are supernatural seasons that cannot be solved with physical solutions.

there are three kinds of people in the world: those who don't know and don't know they don't know; those who don't know and do know they don't know; and those who know and know how much they still don't know.

There is a scientific explanation behind everything. Finding it depends on whether you give in to the much simpler supernatural explanation.

The religious mysteries direct us toward the true nature of reality that we are unaware of. Religion opens our mind and spirit to the greater reality. Much of what we call supernatural is only what we don’t understand.

The ritual worked. That is the most ghastly thing. I hold no particular brief for the rationality of the world, but that this vile obscenity should actually have the power to bring back the dead seems to me not merely a sign that the world is not rational, but that it is in fact entirely insane, a murderous lunatic gibbering in the corner of a padded cell.

The same beautiful receptionist greeted Christian who had met him before and she extended the same lush invitation as she had the last time. Victoria's eyes narrowed and Christian chuckled under his breath at her jealousy."Relax chérie, she's paid to do that." "Well, she didn't come on to me, so obviously she's not doing her job properly," Victoria said. Christian laughed.

The Sea is everything. It covers seven tenths of the globe . . . The sea is only a receptacle for all the prodigious, super-natural things that exist inside it. It is only movement and love; it is the living infinite.

The search for the Divine Being is the grace to seek the divine life.

These scars that we have... they don't go away. They only fade with time, but they're still hauntingly there.

The supernatural is not as it claims, for it is inherently unnatural; it seeks to separate us from our natural world.

The supernatural Christ of the New Testament, the god of orthodox Christianity, is dead. But priestcraft lives and conjures up the ghost of this dead god to frighten and enslave the masses of mankind. The name of Christ has caused more persecutions, wars, and miseries than any other name has caused. The darkest wrongs are still inspired by it. The wails of anguish that went up from Kishinev, Odessa, and Bialystok still vibrate in our ears.

The supernatural world was like an onion. You peel back the layers, only to find more layers, on and on, hopelessly trying to reach the mysterious core. Then you start crying.

The tales of pure terror, of course, are completely naturalistic in their content, and must stand or fall by their merit alone. But what about the supernatural stories? Can we, the children of a scientific age, give any credence to these medleys of devils, ghosts, and other psychical invasions? There is only one answer: we can and do. We are dealing with stories, not with scientific dissertations. And if, as stories, they have the ring of truth, we'll believe them, as stories, implicitly. ("Introduction")

The tabloids wanted to know whether the dragon was receiving benefits. The gossip magazines claimed to have found a woman who was bearing the dragon's baby. The fashion magazines did spreads on draconian style. This apparently consisted of gaunt models with sunken eyes, swathed in clouds of chiffon and arranged in awkwardly erotic positions on piles of gold coins.

The time groaned by as John made a fool of himself. Eventually, he grew numb to the death and sin around him. He even came to enjoy gallivanting cross-country like a true crusader. His name brought tears of joy or pain of anger to those he left in his wake. The result of his own unresolved pain.

The wonders of God is beyond description.

The world,’ he said, ‘grows hourly more and more sceptical of all that lies beyond its own narrow radius; and our men of science foster the fatal tendency. They condemn as fable all that resists experiment. They reject as false all that cannot be brought to the test of the laboratory or the dissecting-room. Against what superstition have they waged so long and obstinate a war, as against the belief of apparitions? And yet what superstition has maintained its hold upon the minds of men so long and so firmly? Show me any fact in physics, in history, in archaeology, which is supported by testimony so wide and so various. Attested by all races of men, in all ages, and in all climates, by the soberest sages of antiquity, by the rudest savage of today, by the Christian, the Pagan, the Pantheist, the Materialist, this phenomenon is treated as a nursery tale by the philosophers of our century. Circumstantial evidence weighs with them as a feather in the balance. The comparison of causes with effects, however valuable in physical science, is put aside as worthless and unreliable. The evidence of competent witnesses, however conclusive in a court of justice, counts for nothing. He who pauses before he pronounces is condemned as a trifler. He who believes, is a dreamer or a fool.

The world was healing itself.

They tended to look at his lips, for his transient gaze was dizzying, though the mouth, you see, the mouth was also a danger, for the teeth would do the unraveling.

They walked until the light died in the sky. Until it was dark, and Donald started to hear the whispers. They pleaded out to him in languages he couldn’t understand. Except when they were in English. Please help me, no don’t hurt me, Mommy, I want my, Dad please, it hurts Daddy! Harold, what are you doing with that axe? You drown now, bitch, DROWN! I do declare, what kind of a creature are… no, no ,NOOOO! Why do you hate me God, why did you make me put that shotgun in my mouth? It was strange when you heard a shout, or a scream, in a whisper. Almost, as if it wasn’t really a person saying something at all. Not a person at all. Not a person at all. Not a person at all. Not a person saying something, didn’t I just think that, already thought that, think that, he wondered. What’s going on with me, me on with, he thought.

This is m-me.” I indicated the lonely track. “Really? What’s up there?” He peered over my shoulder in genuine curiosity. “Is there a house up there? You’re not a sylph or something that really does live wild, are you?

This isn't funny Dean! The voice says I'm almost out of minutes!

This was sharing office space with wacko and bordering on ludicrous.