Best 163 quotes in «monster quotes» category

...there are more terrifying monstrosities in the world than Anthropophagi. Monstrosities who, with a smile and a comforting pat on the head, are willing to sacrifice a child upon the altar of their own overweening ambition and pride.

There was nothing but power, and those who hadn't yet found the tap. (Greachin)

There was one less monster on earth, and the world was certainly better off without him.

There will always be those who say you are too young and delicate to make anything happen for yourself. They don't see the part of you that smolders. Don't let their doubting drown out the sound of your own heartbeat. You are the first drop of rain in a hurricane. Your bravery builds beyond you. You are needed by all the little girls still living in secret, writing oceans made of monsters, and throwing like lightning. You don't need to grow up to find greatness. You are so much stronger than the world has ever believed you could be. The world is waiting for you to set it on fire. Trust in yourself and burn.

- the rusalka was kneeling beside Plain Kate on the deck. She was made of fog and shadow until Kate caught her eye, and then, all at once, she became human. She was young, mischievously sad, a fox in a story. Kate fell in love with her. And then she was gone.

‪The Timingila: A Strange Fish‬ This is the story of an ancient sea, And the monster, who made everyone flee. Timingila was a strange fish, Being free was his only wish.

The word miracle, as pronounced by Christian churches, gives a false impression; it is a monster. It is not one with the blowing clover and the falling rain.

They'll use guns and they'll use words, and the worst part of all is that you might listen when they say you're a freak or a monster, and you might start to believe it. But they are lying.

This is how every fairy tale starts. With the storyteller explaining to the reader just how it is. There once was a girl named Milly who was the wolf’s coveted meal. Whose father left her in the clutches of an evil stepmother. Whose stepmother imprisoned her with monsters.

To the short-sighted, through the fog, God must be a monster.

We’ve created a monster, Alis K. We are to blame for this. He’s far too young for this kind of work.” Johannes aka ‘BB’ The Informer by Steen Langstrup

There is something out there, he'd said. Something cunning.

They say the crazies come out at night. I say the crazies come out during election year: Elections have the power to turn once seemingly normal people into certified loonies.

They thought man was a creature of rapacious self-interest, and yet they wanted him to be free- free, in essence, to contend, to engage in an umpired strife, to use property to get property.

This is the Manifesto of Little Monster There is something heroic about the way my fans operate their cameras. So precisely, so intricately and so proudly. Like Kings writing the history of their people, is their prolific nature that both creates and procures what will later be percieved as the kingdom. So the real truth about Lady Gaga fans, my little monsters, lies in this sentiment: They are the Kings. They are the Queens. They write the hisory of the kingdom and I am something of a devoted Jester. It is in the theory of perception that we have established our bond, or the lie I should say, for which we kill. We are nothing without our image. Without our projection. Without the spiritual hologram of who we percieve ourselves to be or rather to become, in the future. When you are lonely, I will be lonely too. And this is the fame.

True monsters are not those lurking under the bed, but the ones sleeping in it.

We are hunters all. We are, all of us, monstrumologists. And Pellinore Warthrop was the best of us, for he had found the courage to turn and face the most terrifying monster of all.

Well, that's the thing, isn't it? Everyone always blames the monster--but no one ever blames the one who created it. Isn't that right?" He sneered at Moira's limp form. "Tell me, who is the monster? The creation or the creator? It has to start somewhere.

Well, what is a monster, anyway? Something you can't identify with no matter how hard you try. Something so far outside your experience.

What every man should desire is an ugly woman with a beautiful heart, not a beautiful woman with an ugly heart.

Whatever. I know that when a monster is chasing you. You take your high-heeled shoes off. I’ve learned that … And you never, ever dangle your legs over the edge of the bed at night … And clowns, well, you get rid of them right away; they are just way too freaky. If the monster doesn’t get you, the clown sure will.

What if I don't want the monster to stop being a monster? What if that's the only anchor I have left? What if my sanity depends on being able to point at a bad thing and say, That is the bad thing. Haven't I already lost enough time losing track of who the enemy is? I've spent half of my life not knowing the difference between killing myself and fighting back.

When people shine a little light on their monster, we find out how similar most of our monsters are.

What are you?" Lady Marsden asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. Obviously the lady was not accustomed to being caught snooping, let alone shut down twice. "I have no idea,

What kind of monster could possibly hate chocolate?" - Will Herondale

What plan of action? What can be done? We can’t fight the whole society.” “I was thinking we could use you as bait and draw them into a trap,” Gregori said, straight-faced. Gary’s eyes widened in alarm. “I’m not sure I like that plan. Sounds a little risky to me.” He looked at Savannah for support. Gregori shrugged his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “I do not see a risk.” Savannah’s small clenched fist thumped his stomach in retaliation. Gregori glanced down at her with surprise. “Is this when I am supposed to say ouch?” Savannah and Gary exchanged a long, mournful groan. “Why did I want him to have a sense of humor?” she wondered. Gary shook his head. “Don’t be asking me. You created the monster.

When did the very first case of racism even occur? When did such blind hatred devour the souls of men and make them turn on their own brothers and sisters? What ever taught them that it was normal to be such monsters?

When you’re a monster, no one sees what kind of man you are.

Where monsters lurked, love also waited. Bigger than any monster could be.

Who cares even if I didn't?!" Conor shouted back. "They're just stupid berries. Woo-hoo, so scary. Oh, please, please, save me from the berries!" The monster looked at him quizzically. How strange, it said. The words you say tell me you are scared of the berries, but your actions seems to suggest otherwise.

Why can’t she see it? Why can’t she see the hidden monster which lives inside of him? He’s standing there, his back still away from my mum, but he’s showing me that evil. He’s showing me the monster that is just itching to get out. I know what he would do without Mum being there, so I’m so glad that she is, but what I can’t understand is how blind she and my sister are to him. It’s almost as if he can walk on water as far as they’re concerned.

You battled monsters. You sweat and cried your way to this one prolific moment where you finally realize that those dark days and sleepless nights were pre-requisites to your becoming.

You -have- to love your monster.

When you confront the monster you fear the most, you'll defeat your fears.

Why do I always have to remind you to look to where the danger waits, Warrior. Sheesh, what would you do without me? “Uh, not be a murderous psycho?” Very funny.

With a ring around the rosary And a pocket full of crosses Ashes to ashes They'll all fall down

Would you shake hands with the monster that lives in your closet?

You carry the hopes of humanity into the realm of the eternal. Monsters never die. They are reborn from the chaos and barbarism that is always bubbling underneath civilization, the very stuff that makes Kronos stronger. They must be defeated again and again, kept at bay. Heroes embody that struggle. You fight the battles humanity must win, every generation, in order to stay human.

You can't stop a soldier from being frightened but you can give him motivation to help him overcome that fear. I have no such motivation. I can't have. I'm a witcher: an artificially created mutant. I kill monsters for money. I defend children when their parents pay me to. If Nilfgaardian parents pay me, I'll defend Nilfgaardian children. And even if the world lies in ruin - which does not seem likely to me - I'll carry on killing monsters in the ruins of this world until some monster kills me. That is my fate, my reason, my life and my attitude to the world. And it is not what I chose. It was chosen for me.

You see, I was my own monster. When you don’t have hope, something can grow inside of you that will just keep hurting, biting, snarling, and you can sink farther and let that monster overtake you. Some people don’t fight back. They might hurt others, hurt themselves, or just—relinquish the fight for happiness.

You want to stab me again, don't you?" He didn't look at all ashamed. "Think of it as testing the limits of your new abilities." I groaned. "I've created a monster." "I don't think someone who recently crawled from the grave should be throwing around labels like 'monster,'" he said, making sarcastic little air-quotes fingers. "It wasn't a grave," I sniffed. "It was a comfy four-poster.

Akheronin sisuksissa on kyyneliä, hammasten kiristystä, utua, tulta, sietämätöntä poltetta, jäätävää kylmyyttä, koiria, karhuja, leijonia ja käärmeitä. Tässä legendassa helvetti on eläin, jonka sisällä on muita eläimiä.

You want to know who the strongest man in the Kabuki District is? You must be new in town. You won't last long with that attitude. Forget it. This town is on a whole different level. You got thugs, brawlers, vigilantes and rogue warriors from all over Edo here. It's like a haven for hooligans. This is for your own good. Have a drink and go back to the countryside. What's that? You want me to tell you about the top dogs before you go? You really like this stuff. First, there are four monsters on a level of their own: The Fierce and Divine Madamoiselle Saigo, Doromizu Jirocho the Gallant, Peacock Princess Kada and Empress Otose. The four factions are in a standoff which preserves a fragile balance of power. Who would be the strongest in a fight? You wouldn't be able to even scratch those beasts. Saigo and Jirocho in particular, were heroes during the Joui War. Well, they're too old to go on a tear now. If you want someone who's currently active, there's Katsuro Kuroguma, a young leader in the Doromizu Faction. He's the most feared man in Kabuki District right now. You'll also find a few former Joui in Saigo's Faction. There are rumours about Kada's Faction having ties to some crazy folk. Otose's Faction? It's just a bar, really. She's just an old lady with a soft heart. But if you try any funny business on her turf, you'll run into a certain guy. A guy who holds his own against the Big Three by himself. One hell of a monster, with hair that's completely white. A demon...

Alecto Sydney Steele, an entity of few words whom society managed to overlook as it rapidly dove into the 21st century. Everything about him, his interests, his friends, his own life, was constantly in danger of becoming an anachronism. And caught up in that mess was Mearth, not exactly evil in nature but just misunderstood. A very long time ago Alecto’s life had been all incandescent sparkles and Kodachrome, but that was before the environmental movement changed Mearth from a perfectly nice and kind guardian, to a deranged and malevolent monster.

Abuse the innocent and create a monster.

A girl clutched Magnus’s sleeve and gazed up at him, her false lashes dusted with silver glitter. “Don’t go in,” she whispered. “There’s a monster in there.” I am a monster, Magnus thought. And monsters are his specialty. He didn’t say it. Instead he said, “I don’t believe you,” and walked in. He meant it, too: the Shadowhunters, even Alec, might believe Magnus was a monster, but Magnus didn’t believe it himself. He’d taught himself not to believe it even though his mother, the man he’d called his father, and a thousand others had told him it was true. Magnus would not believe the girl in there was a monster either, no matter what she might look like to mundanes and Nephilim. She had a soul, and that meant she could be saved.

All I heard was the foulest sounding wheeze imaginable, cut off by a wet chittering noise and a horrid emphysemic breathing. Why my head turned slowest now, I still don’t know, but as I set my eyes on the monitor, I struggled to believe it. Where my daughter once was, all I could see now was a black, curved mass, shiny and contorted. One that seemed to sway from side to side, those horrible sounds emanating from it.

And suddenly, in the place of the woman-shape made of shadow, there was something else. Something huge, something ugly. Linay flung up both hands. The thing screamed like a hawk and opened to wings: one white as a death cap, one clotted in shadow. The wings came together and the whole pond shuddered. Something hit Kate's ear and shoulder and smashed to the deck by her feet. It was a swallow, dead. She could hear them falling all over the pond.

And in the livid night there creeps a basilisk, spawned by the moon after its strange fashion. The moon – eternally barren - is its father, but its mother is the sand, barren likewise: this is the mystery of the desert. Many say that it is an animal, but this is not so, it is a thought, growing there where there is no earth and no seed: a thought which sprang from that which is eternally barren, and now assumes strange forms which life does not know. This is the reason that no one can describe this being, because it is like nothingness, indescribable.

As always, the soucouyant seemed more lonely than bad. Maybe that was her trick, her ability to make it so you couldn't decide if she was a monster.