Best 696 quotes in «vampire quotes» category

At least I could tell she wouldn't try to kill me in my sleep now.

At least, my boobs weren’t showing this time.

Aunt Jettie: "yes, i'm wandering the earth seeking revenge on ben & jerry for giving me the fat a$$ and coronary & I give out love advice to the tragically lonely." jane: "Is that an ironic eternal punishment for the lady who died an eighty-one year old spinster." jettie: "single by choice you twirp." jane: "banshee." jettie: "bloodsucker.

Bad leather, Viking gods should be naked.

because daytime leaves vampires less than, well, conscious, I told him, “Take your muffins to Boston and shut it, Terrance.” And then I hung up on him.

Being postmodern, however, is about being complicit rather than virtuous, it is about approaching categories like Good and Evil with a certain ironic skepticism.

Being kidnapped and abused by the undead was worse than calculus, but not by a wide margin.

Bloodlust – the disease that makes us the monsters we are known to be; it is what wipes away the last of our humanity.

Better undead than dead.

Besides, my drinking blood's not nearly as weird as that time I caught you shaving your legs." "I was curious!

Mace humphed. “You think I can’t protect you from a few uneducated humans?” He pulled into the lot, jerked the car into park, and shut off the engine. There was that confounding attitude again. “That’s not what I mean. But now that you mention it, we haven’t had a whole lot of luck keeping out of trouble, and this place screams trouble.” “I scream trouble,” Mace growled and exited the car.

BLOODY LIPS The bloody wound Of the gladiator Gurgles out life's end. The cries of acclimations from the stands Fill the sky with raging tigers. Waving their arms about to incite the masses The aging notables add an air of dignity to the arena. Making their separate entries they K N E E L over the still-warm corpses Of the young. Their withered lips they pose Upon the fresh flowing wounds And, to prolong their lives – so they believe, Suck, ravenously suck out the blood, blood, blood. Fresh blood from the sun Flowing into filthy veins As into sewage pipes, And thus the Heart of the Nation is abandoned.

But remember the overall lesson, that your love for others, and their love for you, that the increase of love in life itself around you, is what matters.

Brian came in heavy at that moment on his guitar, the rapid, high-pitched squeal ranging back and forth as his fingers flew along the frets. As the intro's tempo grew more rapid, Bekka heard Derek's subtle bass line as it worked its way in. After another few seconds Will came in, slow at first, but racing along to match the others' pace. When their combined efforts seemed unable to get any heavier, David jumped into the mix. As the sound got nice and heavy, Bekka began to rock back-and-forth onstage. In front of her, hundreds of metal-lovers began to jump and gyrate to their music. She matched their movements for a moment, enjoying the connection that was being made, before stepping over to the keyboard that had been set up behind her. Sliding her microphone into an attached cradle, she assumed her position and got ready. Right on cue, all the others stopped playing, throwing the auditorium into an abrupt silence. Before the crowd could react, however, Bekka's fingers began to work the keys, issuing a rhythm that was much softer and slower than what had been built up. The audience's violent thrash-dance calmed at that moment and they began to sway in response. Bekka smiled to herself. This is what she lived for.

But are his needs any more shocking than the needs of any other animals and men? Are his deeds more outrageous than the deeds of the parent who drained the spirit from his child? The vampire may foster quickened heartbeats and levitated hair. But is he worse than the parent who gave to society a neurotic child who became a politician? Is he worse than the manufacturer who set up belated foundations with the money he made by handing bombs and guns to suicidal nationalists? Is he worse than the distiller who gave bastardized grain juice to stultify further the brains of those who, sober, were incapable of progressive thought? (Nay, I apologize for this calumny; I nip the brew that feeds me.) Is he worse, then, than the publisher who filled ubiquitous racks with lust and death wishes? Really, no, search your soul, lovie--is the vampire so bad?

But maybe kissing was enough. Maybe kissing was the only thing that mattered, anyway. Maybe kissing could overcome the whole vampire/basketball thing.

But she was radiant, and she was mine; she was as she'd always been, and I told her so silently with all my power, that she was lovely as my earliest memory of her when she had had her old fancy clothes still, and she would dress up so carefully and carry me on her lap in the carriage to church.

But unfortunately, vampires lost some of their cultural panache, partly because the romantic vampire genre has portrayed so many bloodsuckers as merely harmlessly eccentric. This isn't to dis the romantic vampire—it's a trope for a reason—but the trope started to occupy the majority of headspace in fans’ minds. People forgot that vampires, as cool and sexy as they might sometimes be, are monsters.

But I'll admit that he's kind of offensively delicious" "Like salt and vinegar potato chips" "Exactly

But it was the dark hunger in his tone that got to her. Damn kinky vampire had actually liked the knife. Shit.

But stones, too, can lie.

Cora, you can turn around now. Your virgin eyes won’t be offended any longer.

Cameron’s mind registered what the rest of him already knew. He was insane about this woman, and he’d do anything to be with her, anything to protect her. She’d become his world. How it had happened, he didn’t know, but it had.

Consider this a one-thousand horsepower divorce, sweetheart

Carol, a swing-shift cocktail waitress in the Bird of Paradise's show lounge had gotten home (guesswork, here) around 2:15 - 2:30, poured herself a glass of milk, and had opened the back door of the kitchen for reasons unknown. (Fingerprints were later found on the outside knob that, while smudged, didn't belong to either girl.) She had opened the door, and died. Suddenly, quietly, without disturbing her sleeping roommate only a few feet away.

Could you just imagine? If every suicide rose--think of Faulkner's Quentin Compson as a vampire. I don't hate the South I don't I don't. She wondered how they'd have worked it out in Cambridge when Quentin threw himself off the Andersen bridge into the Charles amid the odor of the honeysuckle, not the beer, sweat, rum, and tainted magnolias of this city, precariously beneath the level of the water. The Compson blood had thinned out; at least this way, he's restore it after a fashion.

Crazy got nothin on us" Neesa

Crazy is such a misunderstood term. I like to think that I march to the beat of my own drummer.

Damn it," I said. "I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to kill Littleton." He smiled at me, his teeth very white in the darkness of his face. "Eat him," he said.

Cupping one of her cheeks, he swiped at the wetness. “Would you want to live without me?” Tears flowing freely, she shook her head. “Then don’t expect me to live without you. You’re mine, Fiona. Have been from the moment I laid eyes on you, from the moment you tried to warn me off fighting your brother because you were worried I’d get hurt. Don’t you dare expect me to live a life without you! You go into the afterlife? So do I. Simple as that. If we have a day left, I want to enjoy every second of it with you.

…dancing in the carnage and the flames.

Creatures, like myself, have voices that are laced with impending peril, and yet, each and every time they succeed in hypnotising another victim.

Cupid had struck his heart to the core but had forgotten to put even a mere scratch on his beloved's.

Daniel came to sit beside me, ignoring my wariness and settling into the thin, worn cushion. “Who’d you think I was that first night we met?” “The night you attacked me, you mean? I thought you were a vampire.” “A vampire?” His look was one of genuine confusion. “Vampires aren’t real.

Death is not the only possible outcome.

Death and madness are his only mistresses.

Death doesn’t always want your eternal sleep. Sometimes Death just wants your eternity.

Death drives desire.

Deja de ser perfecta. Intenta ser realista para que se produzca un cambio

Did we have sex?" he asked directly. For about two minutes, this might actually be fun. "Eric," I said, "we had sex in every position I could imagine, and some I couldn’t. We had sex in every room in my house, and we had sex outdoors. You told me it was the best you’d ever had." (At the time he couldn’t recall all the sex he’d ever had. But he’d paid me a compliment.) "Too bad you can’t remember it," I concluded with a modest smile. Eric looked like I’d hit him in the forehead with a mallet. For all of thirty seconds his reaction was completely gratifying.

Did you feel it? Did you feel the darkness in their souls and their countless evil deeds? Their fate was to die in my grasp, beneath the sting of my bite.

Did you really think giving yourself up to me would save her?” Miles gave a wide, slow smile that showed the glint of his fangs, his eyes never leaving Reegan’s face even as Kelsey moved into his line of sight. “Not at all. I merely thought it would give her time to save herself, you deluded piece of shit.

Do you think it's really the Boogeyman that killed Brent? You think it's back?" "I sincerely hope not." "When you say things like that, I start to cry a little on the inside.

Does it give you deja voodoo how alike the houses are?" "That's deja vu, and I hate you right now." "For narcing on you to your mom? Wait until you hear what I tell your dad." From the sly grin on his face, she knew what he was thinking. "Don't you even think about it." "I could tell him about the time we-" "Hell, no.

Don't allow yourself to become the monster humans wish to make you. Don't live down to their expectations or try to absorb their morality. They're not worth it.

Don’t you just love meeting new people in new places? It means I can be whoever I want to be. And guess what, sweet’eart? Today…I choose to be your worst nightmare.

Do you always drink from a glass?" she finally exploded. Gavriel shook his head. "Over my lifetime, I have fed in nearly every way imaginable. Drinking from a glass is tame is comparison." Meryn started to grin. "Would you drink from a man?" Gavriel nodded. "Would you drink in a van?" she asked, her eyes dancing. "I don't see why not," he replied. Elizabeth stared as Meryn continued. "Would you drink from an actor?" Again, Gavriel nodded. Laughing, Elizabeth shook her head at Meryn. "Would you drink on a tractor?" Meryn could barely get the words out she was laughing so hard. Gavriel frowned. "Maybe from a farmer if the need were dire.

Dmitri’s nerves calmed as he walked through the hedgerow maze, easily finding his way to the centre, sitting awhile. He had walked the grounds three times, before he finally went into the graveyard, looking for Sveta’s grave. It was easy to find. Easier since he had been to it every night since her passing. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her, strawberry hair blowing in the afternoon autumn wind, face flushed with laughter, eyes sparkling. She’d been a plain girl too. But she’d loved him.

Don't get pissy with me leech." With a glare, Carrow pressed her print to his torque. "Even tapped out, I can still do a love spell to make you fall in love--with the sun.

Don't know. Never let a wolf near my neck." He grinned and gave me a quick hug. "I love you, Essie. Before you came into my life, I had considered ending myself. Three hundred years is a long time to be alone. You've given me hope, a career as a drag queen and a dysfunctional family. I am supremely grateful. Bite me." And because I trusted him....I did.