Best 49 quotes in «ominous quotes» category

Filling life exceedingly is called ominous.

"Foreboding" and "ominous" is what you're striving to achieve-not mention.

Why do waiting rooms have to be so ominous?

I like to think that I'm not as ominous in real life.

Thou ominous and fearful owl of death.

I was terrified of the Vietnam War when I was 13. I thought I was going. The draft was such an ominous thing, I felt as if it was going to trickle down to me.

Yet there's something ominous about turning sixty-five. Suddenly old age is not a phenomenon which will occur; it has occurred.

You can't afford to make the shark look good so you do most of it with ominous music and a fin.

A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid and very luminous...finely molded chin, speaking, in its want of prominence, of a want of moral energy.

Bond looked at the beautiful day and smiled. And no man, not even Mr. Big, would have liked the expression on his face.

An eerie atmosphere leeched from the soot-damaged walls. It was as if the house had died, and yet she felt she belonged here. It was as if the old place wanted to claim her from the grave.

Are you taking us to hell?" I ask, and Denise answers with an ominous, "More or less.

Danny couldn't remember how many times he had driven down this particular stretch of highway.

But he still lingered for a moment, as if waiting for the wind to take a hand and perhaps gust him down to his car.

Every once in a while, I get the urge. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? The urge for destruction. The urge to hurt, maim, kill. It's quite a thing to experience that urge, to let it wash over you, to give in to it. It's addictive. It's all-consuming. You lose yourself to it. It's quite, quite wonderful. I can feel it, even as I speak, tapping around the edges of my mind, trying to prise me open, slip its fingers in. And it would be so easy to let it happen. But we're all like that, aren't we? We're all barbarians at our core. We're all savage, murderous beasts. I know I am. I'm sure you are. The only difference between us, Mr. Prave, is how loudly we roar. I know I roar very loudly indeed. How about you. Do you think you can match me?

Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by Death in all forms – just the two of us are still alive –

For those who fear to die, death walks behind them like an ominous shadow. But for those who embrace it, death casts a gentle eye upon that person.

He falls asleep believing he's been robbed, not knowing that the summoning of demons is almost always unwitting.

He'd been at the Glade for roughly twenty-four hours. One full day. And look at all the things that had happened. All the terrible things. Surely it could only get better.

His voice was the sound of gravel crunching underfoot when you went in search of gravestones.

He liked murder. Murder and long walks had been two of his favorite things when he was younger.

Her arm was outstretched, as though she were reaching for someone she loved, or maybe to ward off some unspoken danger, or maybe even in regret over something she had done. The girl had certainly made enough mistakes in her too-short lifetime. But she couldn’t have known that they would all come crashing down around her tonight. After all, no one goes to a party expecting to die.

Rain fell on the roofs of the just and the unjust, the saints and the sinners, those who knew peace and those in torment, and tomorrow began at a dark hour.

It's my belief that if we do not willingly embrace the challenge of Eden with all our hearts, then we will likely be forced to face challenges far far darker and more ominous in design.

Is there any phrase more ominous than "you need to see exactly what you've done"?

It is a rather remarkable trick of the mind that there can be a wicked little voice that whispers in your ear that you’ve done it before and nothing happened, so why not do it again? Everything will be OK, it says. Things are bad now, but something will turn up. The good will prevail, you’ll be rescued, you’ll find the answer at the last minute. No one dies in a story…

It was a dark story.

It was dark now, and broodingly sluggish. Like something supine waiting to spring, with just the tip of its tail twitching. Leaves stood still on the trees. An evil green star glinted in the black sky like a hostile eye, like an evil spying eye. ("For The Rest Of Her Life")

Nicasia said that as mortal power grows, land and sea ought to be united. And that they would be, either in the way she hoped or the way I should fear.” “Ominous,” I say. “It seems I have a singular taste for women who threaten me.

One of these days," he said. "Everything bad will happen—one of these days.

«Per­ho­nen is not here any­more,» it says, with a voice made of wings and whis­pers.

There was something unbearable about the damp, dark earth closing over a coffin and the still, empty flesh that was inside. She had attended a hundred funerals, but when you really loved someone there was something too final about a burial. Something brutal.

Ren watched us as he leaned casually against the table, holding a pair of scissors. I'd never seen a classroom tool look so dangerous.

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? –

The only thing we know for certain is that Darquesse is coming, and she's coming to kill us all.

The phone rang. Softly, in actuality, yet it seemed loud and ominous, as phones do at night in dark hotel rooms.

There was . . . a mirror that crawled across the wall in a wooden frame. When I go into Miri's room all I can see, all I can think of is that enormous mirror, like a lake on the wall.

Rosa is pushing all the buttons.

Suddenly, Gabriela felt an unusual hand on her shoulder, branding itself through her clothing. Someone leaned against her body. A head now lay on her shoulder, and blond-reddish strands of hair that were not hers fell over her chest. The hand was glisteningly white with a hint of gray and overflown with blue, halted seams, and rested on Gabriela's hand like a stone on sand.

There's an innocuous explanation for everything. Everything is a coin that has two sides to it, and one side is innocuous but the other can be ominous. ("New York Blues")

The scraps of information she’d gathered knocked against each other, like balls in a pinball machine in one of the arcades on the front. Secrets drew her in every time – the unsaid.

The smell of tobacco usually reminded Mirabelle of being a child – coming downstairs in the morning when the dinner party her parents had hosted the night before was cleared away, but the scent of cigars still lingered.

The villagers marked the time in two ways: before the swamp and after. What came before was good. And all that came after was not.

The Tower trembles; the worlds shudder in their courses. The rose feels a chill, as of winter.

The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.

Unbidden, the lines from the Book of Job came to him: “Going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it”. He also remembered who it was that had said them.

They came like specters from the dark maw of the bayou, first ghostly light in the fog, then the rasp of a motor: an aluminum powerboat scudding across lacquer-black water.

Torak's dead." "Really?" Aunt Pol said. "Have you seen his grave? Have you opened the grave and seen his bones?

What none of them knew, of course, was that Carrie White was telekinetic.