Best 18 quotes in «walking dead quotes» category

You a fan of the show?” AJ asked. “Oh, yeah, I adored it—well, until the whole sixth season and Billith.” AJ snickered. “I couldn’t agree more. I used to be pretty much obsessed with it, but yeah, I couldn’t get it up for the last two seasons. Now I’m more a Walking Dead and Sons of Anarchy fan myself.

I'm into 'The Walking Dead,' 'Shaun of the Dead,' obviously, and I've seen all the Romero movies. I am a classic zombie queen. And I love the White Walkers on 'Game of Thrones.' Weirdly, it wasn't until pretty late in life that I found my entry point into horror films.

You’re a good man who happens to be a vampire. We aren’t human, but that doesn’t make us monsters.

I love the Walking Dead, but I dont wanna be an actual prominent character on the show. I just wanna be a zombie.

I'm also not an avid watcher of the show ['Walking Dead'] for no good reason. I think it's obviously a great show. I think it's a good comparison [to "Zoo"], because it is this apocalyptic world we're living in Season 2 of "Zoo.

I watch my favorite shows-The Walking Dead, The Office, 30 Rock and Parks and Recreation-on Netflix to unwind. Actually, I eat most of my meals while watching Netflix. It's like my companion.

I saw the first episode of "The Walking Dead," and that's all I've seen. I thought it was good. I used to love zombies when I was little, but I don't like them the way I used to. I'm not knocking the show.

What I love about 'The Walking Dead' is it's a human story, which is to me what makes the comic book so good, but once you jump from the pages of the book to the screen, the gore and the zombies have to look great.

My body started to shut down. I got really, really ill. When you're starving yourself, you can't concentrate. I was like a walking zombie, like the walking dead. I was just consumed with what I would eat, what I wouldn't eat.

World of words lost on the living / I take my place with the walking dead / Robbed of my voice I'm always giving / Thousands of words to this nameless dread.

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.

You can make a global film, which affects so many countries and affects sort of this worldwide epidemic, but it has, zombies are great metaphors for the times we live in today and that's what I always find fascinating about them, but then it's like the walking dead, you know, the unconscious, and the metaphors for them are just really something I was inspired by.

Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long.

If we are not apt to steer our life and engineer our individuality, we become preys of the pecking order or panting cardboard characters turning into walking dead. ("Terra incognita" )

Mother Fuckers. They're going to feel pretty stupid when they find out. They're fucking with the wrong people.

Explosive Pandemic-type zombies mostly spread the contagion through wounding or biting humans, and in that way, the increase their numbers. Because they multiply so quickly and explosively, they can destroy all human civilization in a very short time. For this reason, will refer to them as Explosive Pandemic-type zombies. The person responsible for Explosive Pandemic-type zombies is none other than George A Romero, who created them in 1968 Night of the Living Dead.

He was drop-dead gorgeous and I, well I was just ... dead." (Tera Hightower, Dead Chick Walking)

The glove comes off, flops loosely over, and there's suddenly horror beating into his brain, smashing, pounding, battering. He reels a little in his chair, has to hold onto the edge of the table with both hands, at the impact of it. A clawlike thing - two of the finger extremities already bare of flesh as far as the second joint; two more with only shriveled, bloodless, rotting remnants of it adhering, only the thumb intact, and that already unhealthy-looking, flabby. A dead hand - the hand of a skeleton - on a still-living body. A body he was dancing with only a few minutes ago. A rank odor, a smell of decay, of the grave and of the tomb, hovers about the two of them now. A woman points from the next table, screams. She's seen it, too. She hides her face, cowers against her companion's shoulder, shudders. Then he sees it too. His collar's suddenly too tight for him. Others see it, one by one. A wave of impalpable horror spreads centrifugally from that thing lying there in the blazing electric light on O'Shaughnessy's table. The skeleton at the feast! ("Jane Brown's Body")