Best 1001 quotes in «thriller quotes» category

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 the old-age serenity thing is crap.

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.

Sore, hungry, and dehydrated, Naomi Robertson lay on a festering bed and opened her eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings. Her head throbbed and she struggled to focus, due to the intake of Rohypnol. She ran her dry tongue between the gap where her front teeth had once been. Slowly, she made out the interior of the huge-dilapidated brick building

So that was where we were in our relationship.Derwent’s scale ran all the way from wouldn’t piss-on-you-if-you-were-on-fire to would-kill-for-you-no-need-to-ask-twice. I was quite glad to be somewhere near the middle.

So what if you hurt him? He'll hurt you. You'll hurt each other. That's what love is about, right? You can't know what'll happen till you actually try it. Don't try to make excuses like you're protecting him.

So, your friends call you Bastian. Your enemies call you asshole. What do lovers call you?” “Why do you want to know?” She smiled up at the stars. “Future reference.

So, you think your coffee-addicted mother is amusing.” She pushed at his shoulder. “I’ll get even with you. I’ll show your naked baby pictures to your girlfriend.” ~ Chapter 9 The Truth and Nothing but Lies

Speculation is a dangerous thing without any evidence to back it up.

Stay present. Stay conscious and aware. And the story will unfold with mindfulness.

Style bloggers were just so impermanent these days. One day they’re on top of the world, the next, they’re toe up in the morgue.

Such is the great nature of man, it resides the true face beneath a glittering masquerade.

Swallowing, he peered down at Noelle, floored by the sheer calm reflecting back at him. "You okay, babe?" She rolled her eyes. "Of course. What do you think I am, a pansy-ass damsel who weeps at the first sign of trouble?

SWAT? For me?" Still trembling, one hand clung to the ambulance gurney, the other held a massive sterilised cotton wool wad under my nose. "Tactical Support was busy. You got Dennis and Arlo," said Harry, speed-reading the papers he'd snatched from inside my jacket. Closest his hands had been to my chest in a long time. "Which one broke my nose?" "That'd be Dennis.

Technology is a goddamn bully.

Susan glared up at the man. "Let go of me." "Tell me where you found it!" he shouted, giving her a little shake. "Did you even find it? Or did you steal it from the person it belongs to?" Fury suffused Stanislav as he took a step forward. Before he could leap to her aid, Susan drew her free arm back and punched the man in the face. Ow! Sh**, that hurt! she exclaimed mentally. But it didn't stop her from delivering a wicked uppercut when the man released her arm and stumbled backward. Stanislav's jaw dropped. She really could handle herself.

Technos and clerics have much in common. Both take a world that can’t be fully understood and try to explain its fundamental properties. Clerics postulate beliefs that can never be proven; they demand you accept these postulates as your Faith, which will guide your actions and thoughts. It’s a top down way of thinking; start with the big picture and derive rules for living. Fundamental knowledge is static. Even the derived rules rarely change. Technos work from the bottom up. They build a baseline of observations and formulate theories to explain these phenomena. Nothing is sacred; with new observations, theories are discarded or modified to fit the facts. Technos and clerics; how could they not be in conflict? Dan Ronco’s Diary, 2016

Tell me you have a plan.” He swore when Colt didn’t answer right away.

Ten years ago, I attended a community meeting for an oil pipeline proposal PE was ramming through the environmental impact process in eastern Washington. I sat in the front row as you defended PE’s plan to destroy an important Traditional Cultural Property to build a pipeline that would bisect the state from the Canadian border to the Columbia River. You had no respect for the sovereignty of tribes over the land. Your plan lacked even basic environmental protection for air and water, but you defended it because you didn’t give a fuck about air Indians breathe or water Indians drink.

Terry loved candlelight dinners and red wine. It was a nice contrast from work. And killing people.

Terry took the silence as acquiescence, “The other way to make money is to exploit people, oh, no sorry, that’s the ‘only’ way to make money, exploit other people, that’s how the billionaires have acquired all their money by exploiting others… So how did they achieve it? You’re going to love this… they changed all the rules to accommodate what they wanted to do. How I hear you ask… easy, they own the politicians, they own the banks, they own industry and they own everything. They made it easier for themselves to invest in so called emerging markets. What once would’ve been considered treasonous was now considered virtuous. Instead of building up the nation state and its resources, all of its resources, including its people, they concentrated on building up their profits. That’s all they did. They invested in parts of the world where children could be worked for 12 hours a day 7 days a week, where grown men and women could be treated like slaves and all for a pittance and they did this because we here in the west had made it illegal to work children, because we’d abolished slavery, because we had fought for workers’ rights, for a minimum wage, for a 40 hr week, for pensions, for the right to retire, for a free NHS, for free education, all of these things were getting in the way of them making a quick and easy profit and worse …had been making us feel we were worth something.

Thanks, but no thanks. I need my makeup honey. - Carol

Tell me something, Johanna, does pain bring you pleasure? Does it bring you a sense of reality, something to keep you from thinking that this whole thing is a dream? Do you see it as a form of therapy, one you put yourself through to help keep yourself whole? Please do tell me the reason why you would continue to walk through that hallway, when you felt the works of a protect from me spell that was placed on you.

Tesco at the best of times is soulless – but it’s so much worse at 6 in the morning. It’s not as empty as I thought it would be. Who the fuck shops at 6 a.m.? e florescent lights flicker. e shelf upon shelf of coloured cans make my eyes go funny. Everything is hard and shiny and there’s so much fucking choice. Why do I have to choose from thirty kinds of granola? Do I want Country Crunch or Rude Health? Raisins and almonds or tropical? Goji berries and chia seeds or Strawberry Surprise? I’ll just buy the Tesco range – that’ll be easiest. No, wait, there’s Tesco finest*, Tesco Everyday Value and Tesco Free From. What can be so damn fine about granola? You eat it everyday and what could it be free from? It hasn’t got anything unhealthy in it! What could one possibly take out? Actually, we don’t need any fucking granola.

That night I set the building on fire and killed everyone inside. Just kidding. I watched three back-to-back episodes of Law & Order. A girl needed a release. It was all work and no play lately.

That is the difference between great men and small, we great are willing to do the hard things, the uncomfortable things to ensure we succeed.

That's exactly where you're wrong! Any kind of person can murder. Purely circumstances and not a thing to do with temperament! People get so far -- and it takes just the least little thing to push them over the brink. Anybody. Even your grandmother. I know.

That's because you have couture bollocks.

That’s the business, Iris. It’s a ruthless industry. People’s love lasts but one season.

That's the thing about digging holes,” Quinn said. “There are no assurances you'll find what you want—or want what you find.

That sure as fuck ain't no cow

The air in the room was so cold, the exposed flesh of his face felt like ice. "I'll be the first person to get frostbite in a house sleeping several feet from a roaring fire.

The arms, legs, and torso with head were dragged away in sections as the children were captivated by the drama, zealously chewing their candies with sticky teeth.

The Ancestral Trail was split into two-halves of 26 issues each. The first half takes place in the Ancestral World and describes Richard's struggle to restore good to the world. After the initial international run, which sold over 30 million copies worldwide, Marshall Cavendish omitted the second part of the trilogy and used the third part (future) for the second series that followed. This part of the series, written up by Ian Probert and published in 1994, takes place in the Cyber Dimension. It deals with Richard's attempts to return home. Each issue centered on an adventure against a particular adversary, and each issue ended on a cliffhanger. The Ancestral Trail was illustrated by Julek and Adam Heller. Computer-generated graphics were provided by Mehau Kulyk for issues #27 through #52.

The assholes are always puzzled when the order of the universe is restored, when they are held accountable for their cowardly, pretentious, loveless ways.

The Angel of Death had sworn retribution, and she wasn’t going to stop until she’d killed them all.

The attack came without warning, in the pre-dawn stillness on the day they were due to leave. A series of solid concussions shook the walls and sent Simon scrambling from his bunk. Max thrust a handgun at him, which he immediately fumbled and dropped.

The blank sheet stares up at me, its emptiness like a slap. Those were the last words Ginny ever wrote before she and her family were murdered.

The best way of keeping a low profile was to immerse himself in the mundane. Act like them, talk like them. A smile, a joke was all it took - at least during the day. The night was his own.

The biggest mistake you can make is thinking you know who you are.

The city was a machine of its own, continuously producing. We were constantly pumped out through its assembly line, in different forms or models. We came hardwired with different stories, dark secrets, vices, and defects. Over time, we fail and come to find our end, but the city continues onwards.

The corpse opened his eyes.

The concrete floor beneath the airbed was hard and uncompromising, digging into her back and making it difficult to breathe. The stale air reeked of disinfectant and shit. And something else that she couldn't quite place. Death, perhaps?

The dark edge of the moor and the Cow and Calf rock are crisp against the blue-black sky. I can’t see anyone outside, watching us. As I shut the door behind me, I hear a noise. It came from the hall. I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

The crazed man, after he was satisfied, placed his hands around the throat of the helpless Irish girl and squeezed powerfully. He continued his attack, until he was certain Beverley was dead. He turned his back to the wall and masturbated, squealing in delight when he was done. He then composed himself, straightened his clothes, and ascended the steps. Hopefully, he thought, the tide would wash away the body before morning.

The dead pull the living down.

The door suddenly opened. A leggy young brunette took two steps into the office and stopped short. Her brown eyes widened, she hastily excused herself and turned to leave. Pérez’s jaw dropped as he looked up at her high heels and ankles. He crawled out from under the desk and turned questioningly to his partner. Thorne didn't hesitate. He took one swift stride from behind, clamped a hand tightly over her mouth, and pulled her back into the room, disregarding her wildly flailing legs and frantic attempts to claw his hands away. He shut the door with a backward thrust of his foot. "What do we do now?" Pérez whined. "Observe." Thorne spoke calmly, as would a professor demonstrating a familiar operation to a beginner. Using both hands, he briskly snapped her neck. She stopped struggling.