Best 174 quotes in «zombie quotes» category

If 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger,' how do you explain zombies?

I also have always liked the monster within idea. I like the zombies being us. Zombies are the blue-collar monsters.

I don't like zombie movies, they're just plain silly.

If you love someone, you're not supposed to want them to come back. Better a peaceful sleep in the earth than the life of a zombie--not really dead but not really alive, either.

I keep a little notebook of things that I can do to the zombies that might be silly and fun.

I love any comedic zombie movies.

I always look for an intense experience, an intense ride. There is nothing better than a good zombie movie where you run crazy and blow at monsters! It was a physical shoot and I enjoyed it.

I don't think I've ever seen a zombie movie in my life.

I'm not prepared for a zombie apocalypse. I need more bottled water, a shotgun, and stronger abs. I have plenty of canner food.

I'm not going to just do a dumb zombie movie, although I love zombie movies.

I'm not really a zombie genre guy, I'm not particularly versed in it. Doing 'The Walking Dead' sort of turned me on to the whole thing.

I'm obsessed with zombies. I like watching zombie movies and I read zombie books.

The zombie threat is made worse by the fact that their victims then turn into the creature that attacked them. This too is similar to other monsters (werewolves and vampires) and also similar to the sub-genre of infection/plague films. In the case of zombies, however, this may carry a greater sense of dread and revulsion: vampires and werewolves can be seen as desirable, potent, intelligent, virile creatures whom one might like -- in some way at least -- to become; a mindless ghoul condemned to wander aimlessly across an empty, ruined earth seems much less attractive.

I was just walking around like a zombie..I really had no idea what I was doing.. But the best thing that I did do was leave and get the hell out of there. I have no regrets.

I think zombies have always been an easy metaphor for hard times. Because they're this big, faceless, brainless group of evil things that will work tirelessly to destroy you and think of nothing else.

Use your head; cut off theirs.

Zombies - obviously they're doing it in a much more expansive way on The Walking Dead - basically, what you used to do is you put a bunch of goo on an actor and have them shamble towards you, and it's a very effective creature. It always has tremendous impact, just that feeling of death coming for you; that's universally accepted.

What are you? (Nick) Completely perplexed. You remember everything that happened. (Acheron) Yeah. Duh. Not like you’re going to forget the killer zombie stalkers and psyched-out kitchen staff. What kind of freak show is this? (Nick)

A crush of bodies surrounded the featureless monument. The enraged dead clambered atop their ghastly kin. Caiaphas tucked his knees to his chest and hugged his legs tightly, staring at the scores of ragged, flailing hands as they scratched for purchase over the edge of the cylinder. Metal thrummed and thunder roared, filling his head. Now there were words within the deafening roar. “Straaaange,” they seemed to say. “Daaaace…” “Straaaangerrrr…” Then a quick, awful chant: “CAIAPHAS! FOREVER! CAI—” And with a piercing whistle it ended as his eardrums burst.

Albert died in an unfortunate accident sometime ago and was raised as a zombie by his amateur necromancer friend, Neil. Bubba was a new friend we had acquired in Vegas when helping him gain back the freedom he had previously gambled away. The fourth member of our group, a government agent and my girlfriend named Krystal, was out of town for work this week, thus I was conducting my first weekly scrabble tournament with just the three of us. Which leaves only me to be accounted for in the explanation. My name. which I hope you know by now. is Frederick Frankford Fletcher and I am a vampire, though still not the type that inspires swooning or terror.

All of her days were full of strangeness here at the end of the world, but this day was standing out as one of the stranger ones.

And, for one– ten thousandth of a second, all of it fell away, the despair and grief and anger and pain and hunger, and the old Ben Parish rose from the dead. The eyes that impaled. The smile that slayed. In another moment, he would fade, slide back into the new Ben, the one called Zombie, and I understood something I hadn’t before: He was dead, the object of my schoolgirl desires, just as the schoolgirl who desired him was dead.

Anyone who has experienced a debilitating sleep disorder knows what it is like to be the walking dead.

A country where people are afraid of even their own shadows is surely a country of dictatorship! In such vile countries there are two groups of people: The zombies, the living-dead who serve the dictator and the rest, the clever and honourable people who fight for their freedom!

After almost three years behind the studio walls, some folks couldn't resist the idea of windows and trees and across-the-street neighbors. And with the depleted population, there were houses and luxury apartments for anyone who wanted them. The Zombocalypse had really turned Los Angeles into a buyer's market.

A grey-suited figure with badly-scuffed shoes was squatted over a woman’s body, obscuring her face and upper torso. A loose, white dress; torn, now mostly red. A pattern of rose petals, drenched in blood. One of her sandals was missing, scarlet streaks and spatters on her jade-green polished toenails and pale, slender ankles. Another step took him around the hunched and twitching figure. It ignored him, intent on its work. Then its victim came fully into view … and he saw her ruined face.

And on the eighth day, Satan laughed.

And suddenly he thought, I'm the abnormal one now. Normalcy was a majority concept, the standard of many and not the standard of just one man.

Are you suggesting I’m working with the zombies? That I paid them to pretend to attack me so that I’d trick you into letting me join you?”“Did you?” Mr. Holland demanded.“Yeah, okay,” I said in a sugar-sweet tone. “You’re right. I was having dinner with Zombie Carl the other night. You know, steaks, rare, and a bottle of vintage type A. He told me all his secrets, but too bad for you I promised him I wouldn’t tell. In exchange I asked him to gather his best undead buddies and stalk me through my friend’s yard. And oh, yeah, it was totally fine if they wanted to use me as an all-night dinner buffet, because having organs is so last season.

Before John could even get through the first verse, who bursts through the door and jumps right into the fray, lips a'kissin' and hips a'wigglin'? That's right, kids, everbody's favorite zombie hunter. Mick Jagger strode right up to John, raised his arms to the sky, and said, 'O zombie Lennon! It ends here.

A riverless silence made the air heavy.

Bitting into heads is much harder than it looks. The skull is feisty.

But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.

‘Can’t you see what they are?’ I said. ‘They’re all dead.’

Cry no tears for us, my friend.” I pry at her fingers, panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death with her. She croaks again, “Lend no aches to the dreams of yesterday.” From the corpse of Warren, his greyish gums smack from whatever goo has settled in his mouth, “Allow the tide sweep free the bay.” Then together they sing in zombie choir, “And home the ships sailing send.

Don't judge me. Ethics and morality no longer exist in our world. It's a luxury of the past, afforded only to those who had a future.

‘Eighth one this week,’ he said.

Because zombies can’t go out into the sun, most of them tend to be afraid of anything that can go into the sun and live to tell the tale.

Black Friday – (AKA Zombie Apocalypse) Is an event of subset half-dead human like beings confronted with ravenous bloodthirsty monsters preparing to pummel down the doors mid-afternoon on Thanksgiving Day.

Black vomit came gushing out Samantha’s mouth, adding to the puddle already on the floor. Samantha was covered in a sheen of sweat, crouched on all fours on the wooden hallway floor, like an animal. Her thick yellow fingernails made deep scratches in the wood as her body convulsed with each new expulsion of the black vomit. Her hair was long and thick and full; thicker and fuller than he had ever seen it. It reminded him of a lion’s mane. Her skin was a sickly pale grey with disturbing red boils the size of grapefruit and weeping puss-filled black blotches where others had burst. Spider webs of blue veins were visible under the skin all over her body.

But the future is uncertain, and he can't get up enough enthusiasm even to masurbate.

Did you ever think it won’t be the undead who kill us, but ordinary people?

Don't be a zombie for anyone, if your oppressor likes zombies, cinemas are not located in mars.

Do you know a way out of here?” I ask Ben. Sammy’s more trusting than I am, but the idea’s worth exploring. Finding the escape pods—if they even exist—has always been the weakest part of my getaway plan. He nods. “Do you?” “I know a way—I just don’t know the way to the way.” “The way to the way? Okay.” He grins. He looks like hell, but the smile hasn’t changed a bit. It lights up the tunnel like a thousand-watt bulb. “I know the way and the way to the way.

Drive. He’s already dead.

Dude, don’t die out here.

Elizabeth remembered how foolish everyone had felt when they discovered Mr. Mercandy was the victim of a stroke and not a zombie as they’d thought.

Erik wondered if they saw the irony of such a tiny complex expecting to find the cure from the very lives they minimized in comparison to the whole. If such small, little lives mattered not, how could they believe anything they did would matter?

Even now I can’t describe the fear that contaminated my blood like black ink.

Fear is the short road to death and this world, Changed by the flux of decay: Survival is the exception for weary men. From the new book The Waning