Best 1001 quotes in «thriller quotes» category

She might not have read many books. But when she reads a book, she swallows the very words. If you open the books on her shelves, you will find that the front and back covers encase white pages.

She played me with a bad hand, and I fell for it every time.

She remembered dating. She remembered feeling excited and reveling in the unknown. Dating was like hopscotch for giants. An adult game that made the heart jump instead of the feet. A game she used to enjoy.

She said that the mummy and the daddy took their daughter up onto the moor. They had a picnic. They’d brought all of her favourite food – cheese sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off and strawberry-pink cupcakes – and when the little girl had finished eating, she looked around for her mummy and the daddy. But they’d gone. They’d left Evelyn on the moor by herself.

She slapped him. Hard. "Tell me!" she screamed, "TELL ME!". "The truth is...I am a liar," Jack said quietly. "Don't be one with me," she sobbed, "it hurts." "The lies or the truth?" he asked.

She shivers. ‘I can’t understand why anyone would want to live out there. You’d be totally isolated.’
 I do. I could imagine waking up each day and instead of looking out of the window and seeing the moor in the distance, you’d be in the heart of it, feeling the wind turn, the storm rage, the rain lash, hear the plovers piping.

She shoved her hands in the deep silk-lined pockets…where she felt the cold steel of a revolver.

She's a princess and you're a jock," he says. He thrusts his chin toward Bronwyn, then at Nate. "And you're a brain. And you're a criminal. You're all walking teen-movie stereotypes.

She smiled as though someone had just offered her, the oldest virgin in town, a fully functioning Kingsize Vibro vibrator and a deluxe inhibition bypass.

She smiled at him like a freshman invited to the senior prom. It made my blood boil.

She’s insecure, impulsive, fragile, emotionally incontinent, can’t handle rejection, and although she tries extremely hard to hide it, she craves approval like a junkie craving a fix. What can I say, Frank? She’s an actress.

She stared at Raven in a long second of shocked silence, before sagging to the floor.

She tugged the sleeves down over her hands, stretching the fabric until the seams reached her fingernails. Then she locked her fingers around them to ensure they stayed down. Veda fought the urge to rip those sleeves from Coco’s grip and force her to wear them appropriately, or at the very least roll them up so she wouldn’t be tempted to yank at them. She could remember a time when she’d had the same habit, back in middle school. As if hiding her hands behind a thin piece of fabric would protect her from the world.

She was crying over shoes. I wanted to slap her. I wanted to take those shoes and smash her head in.

She was found in her apartment yesterday. Dead.” About time.

She was floating in the midst of a black sea, in the darkest of nights, with no hope or care to see light again. She was a mere wave away from drowning in blackness.

She was in so fast that she didn’t have a chance to scream. The icy cold water stole her breath away…

Simon's brain tried to comprehend the situation. 'Was an international supermodel really holding Doc Gutson, leader of the infamous Bloodworth Gang, captive?

Simon shook his head. 'I don't want to be a hero. I'd rather abandon the technology altogether, sit on a hill and speak to my neighbours by smoke-signal.

Simon stopped listening. He realised he'd had enough. Enough of the theories, enough of the mystery, enough of the bullshit. Enough of the soldiers and guns and MI5. Enough of bugs in phones and in people he cared about. Enough of not being cared about back. Enough of uncertainty and lies and civilisation, collapsing or not. Enough of is part in it, his place, his role; the character of Simon Parfitt and all the baggage it entailed.

Since her diagnoses she has been fading like a light bulb with cancer’s hand on the rotary dimmer.

Since I met you, for lack of a better term, I could tell that you were operating on a different frequency. That you—that you were like me, basically. I’m not sure if I give you the same vibe or if I just have my own personal knack for sensing these things, but, the entire first night we met, I was trying to figure you out. And your defensiveness just confirmed it for me. You’re hiding something.

Sir, you do understand that - officially - I'm not actually a centurion. I haven't even been assigned to a legion yet.' The general continued writing as he spoke. 'What was the name?' 'Corbulo, sir.' 'Corbulo, you have an officer's tunic and an officer's helmet; and you completed full officer training did you not?' Cassius nodded. He could easily recall every accursed test and drill. Though he'd excelled in the cerebral disciplines and somehow survived the endless marches and swims, he had rated poorly with sword in hand and had been repeatedly described as "lacking natural leadership ability." The academy's senior centurion had seemed quite relieved when the letter from the Service arrived. 'I did, sir, but it was felt I would be more suited to intelligence work than the legions, I really would prefer -' 'And you did take an oath? To Rome, the Army and the Emperor?' 'I did, sir, and of course I am happy to serve but -' The General finished the orders. He rolled the sheet up roughly and handed it to Cassius. 'Dismissed.' 'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I just have one final question.' The General was on his way back to his chair. He turned around and fixed Cassius with an impatient stare. 'Sir - how should I present myself to the troops? In terms of rank I mean.' 'They will assume you are a centurion, and I can see no practical reason whatsoever to disabuse them of that view.

Smiles were rare in this house. Smiles had to be bought and paid for.

Smiling, he handed Landry the bloody aluminum bat Warnick had used. ‘Time to die, old man,’ he said.

Snowmageddon. Dirty glacial clouds hammered the city's anvil. On the District of Columbia’s northwestern edge, gusts of snow rolled across the Park Road Bridge like volcanic ash.

Society tends to stick labels on everything and everyone. The label that is given to you will stick with you for a lifetime.

So I made her get up. I told her to stop crying and get back to her desk.” Later I bashed those ugly shoes into her face.

Some girls are sweeter… Others have a tinge of bitterness… It is as if I can smell their souls. Their experiences and relationships are painted in warm, sour crimson.

So long as I remember the things that count. ", FADE by Kailin Gow

Some days, theory is all that we have,” I say. “It’s better than having nothing at all.”, FADE by Kailin Gow

Some sinister secret lay buried in the heart of the graveyard!

Some slight awareness in the back of her mind, beneath the pain, told her she was free.

Some people are eaters and some people are dinner.” --Dave From Purgatory the Audiobook

Some say the bible teaches that with our tongues we can speak, set things into motion both good and bad, life and death. What we bind and loose on earth will be bound and loosed in heaven.

Something was wrong with the devices themselves. Digging deep into the internal structure of the circuit boards with powerful microscopes, Simon's team had discovered broken and incorrect connections, electronic dead-ends, short circuits, and nonsensical pathways.

Sometimes a night of over-eating leaves you hungry for something you can't name. An emptiness haunted me. An emptiness I didn't have a name for until I met Jeb. Now, I' m starving.

Sometimes death is just the beginning

Some things are just like riding a bicycle; you jump on, pedal, and hope you don’t fall.

Something Stinks in Denmark

Sometimes death is even better than to confess a secret.

Sometimes it takes losing everything to see the truth in nothing, except love, honor, and death.

Some sinister secret lat buried in the heart of the graveyard !

Sometimes one man must fight for what he feels is right, even against the majority. Something that is wrong does not change to right just because the majority approves it, ignores it, or the government says it is right. It is still wrong.

Sometimes the old-age serenity thing is crap.

Sometimes the hardest thing is admitting you were wrong. It’s hard to say you need to be forgiven.

Sometimes the law is about as useful as tits on a bull. Good people end up hurt.

Sometimes, we are so focused on what we want that we are blind to the things that make us happy. It’s just incredible, and when I focus on what is right in front of me, nothing else matters. All my worries vanish.

Sometimes, when you wear a mask too long, you find it sticks to the skin.

So much of what people believe makes no sense, Wylie.