Best 1001 quotes in «thriller quotes» category

That's because you have couture bollocks.

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

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

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 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 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 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 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 corpse opened his eyes.

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 fiery tickle of outrage burned up her throat. “How the hell would you know that when you never gave me a chance?” Something dark and scorching flickered behind his eyes. “Because no other girl has ever made me want to forget all my own rules for them.

The dead pull the living down.

The Devil's minions worked his treacherous plot through the hearts of men, possessing them, ruling them. These hounds of hell ran wild these days through their human hosts, working greater and greater abominations.

The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything, even die.

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 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.

The eeriness of the weeping moss from the trees, reminding me of shrouds covering the faces of mourners. There are people coming home from work, families going out to dinner, couples walking through the squares. My wish is that none of them are ever touched by the darkness I see.

The elevator doors opened and Arina saw their reflection. She was stricken. Maxim, tall, irresistibly handsome and grown-up, a bit tired dressed casually but smart, looked out of place standing next to a ridiculously looking, scared and scruffy girl wearing a tank top and sneakers.

The finest thing in the world is knowing how to belong to oneself. Michel de Montaigne

The future will never bend to the fleeting hopes of the man." From "Lucifer's Ladder: God of the Fallen, Book One

The funnel of my family’s salvation must continue narrowing towards the gallows. That journey cannot begin at the parted tips of another woman’s toes

The girl had a special way of saying “anything”. The gods had blessed her voice with a special monopoly. It delivered an acoustic chocolate that was laced with all flavours of euphoria. The substance led to surges in testosterone in all types of men, including the average botanist. “Anything.” The way she handled the word endowed it with so many possibilities. Professor Khupe decided to investigate how many of these Ketiwe would let him explore. To his delight the parameters of the word had proven to be quite elastic.

The house sits on a gentle curving street that ends in a cul-de-sac. The surrounding houses are all equally attractive and well maintained, and relatively similar. People who live here are successful and settled; everyone's a little bit smug.

The last vestiges of consciousness tell her she has just witnessed her own murder, all she ever was and hoped to be is gone.

The idea that the spirits of those once tortured in the house might still be there was the avenue his imagination began to explore. The groaning of the wood sounded like screams from the dungeon and the clunking pipes were the implements of torture. His bedcovers seemed to offer less protection than they had done in his younger years, he felt naked and at the mercy of his thoughts, and it wasn’t long before the skull he’d seen in the cellar had a face, manifested by fear and imagination.

The Internet is the biggest double-edged sword in our technological history, but it’s not going anywhere.

Their attention was focused on the strange kid who wore black eyeliner and dressed as if every day was a funeral.

The key trait of a Sperm Pirate is that she is not driven by desperation. Escaping poverty or hardship is not her motive. She usually has a good education and access to the same opportunities as the man she tries to trap. However, she understands that it is more efficient to enjoy a lavish lifestyle through the sweat of another’s labour. But the Sperm Pirate is acutely aware that the infatuation of a hormonal man has a brief shelf life. This poor collateral must be cashed in before it expires. A pregnancy is the best way to convert this volatile resource into a stable asset. Babies are reliable insurance policies. They create legal obligations for financial support, even when the sweet milk of passion turns sour.

The human brain has a natural ability, inherent in its mechanism, to work on many levels, in a process of constant promptings, in a type of self-preservation. If only humans understood... Most ignore it.

The Kahn spoke to his disfigured expert. Mal-Greb, confused at first, listened, nodded and bowed his head like the slave he was. Jani Beg momentarily seized with energy grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders and breathed into his face “Hurl them back to Hell!” The wild look in the Kahn’s eyes was something that Mal-Greb understood. And so they began.

The lights flickered, the pain went away, and her mother was holding her, singing ‘Sleep sweet sleep’. (The Children of Ankh series) Kim Cormack

The moon shines like a freshly unwrapped cheese ball at the holidays.” -William Harrison in Truth Insurrected: The Saint Mary Project

The military operation swiftly became one of disaster management and damage control, search and rescue.

The mirror sighed and spoke in a tone tinged with melancholy. Its language was old and not of any of the worlds known or unknown. What you dream, what you darkly desire, Find it by trial or by fire. Seek it high and seek it low, Search the skies or the realms below. Look everywhere but beware, The deepest magic, the strongest spell Will not change what the stars foretell.

The men were smashing windows and aiming their weapons through them. The driver had opened the door and was shouting for the women and children to get out and run and hide. But Ilina realized in some vague way that he never managed to actually say the word "hide." He really said, "Women and children, get out, get out, get out! Run and..." The clerk's wife thought it was odd that he had stopped in the middle of a sentence, and even stranger that she herself knew the word, heard the word "hide" in her head when the driver stopped talking.

The moor has always been part of my life. It’s like a muse: the colours of the heather and the sky; how you can see the savagery of the wind in the way the dwarf pine trees are bent double, the bleak lines of the landscape in winter when everything save the moss and the grass are dead, stones like bones, poking through a thin skin of bilberry bushes, rushes reflected in black bog water.

The nation has been turned upside down and inside out. The country that was once discovered by people seeking religious freedom is now oppressing religious rights. It has been a slow train rumbling down the track of destruction since the 1960's. It started with the removal of the Bible from our public schools. Next the generation known as the 'love generation' opened the door for the approval of sex outside of marriage. For every ten years since then, it's been a slippery slope of materialism, I got mine, what can you do for me, and money is power. "We as a nation have stopped focusing on God and family and replaced them with money and success. Parents are teaching their children to do whatever it takes to get ahead...just don't get caught. If you do, find someone to blame it on.

The new Mrs. Ethan Baxter, I presume?” “Was there an old Mrs. Baxter?” she asked. He merely laughed.

Then headed for the kitchen. Fuck. I headed through the lounge… …just as two indistinct pitch-black masses, Kevlar laden, shotguns raised, crept ninja-like through the front door. This time, I didn't even get a bellowed warning. The lead ninja, upon seeing me, sprang forward… and crushed me face flat to the floor. That hurt. It was five long hard seconds before he eased up an iota so I could take a breath, "Hello again, Dennis. Busy night?" I managed from somewhere under his arm or knee or gun-butt. "Bean-bags or bullets?" "Bullets," said Harry. "Easy up, lads. He's scarpered…" Dennis got off of me, locked his shotgun and helped me up, "Sorry," he said. "No worries…

The motorcycle’s headlights cut through the darkness. Ahead the road was nothing but a black hole. She roared toward it.

Then, as she turned in a majestic arc for home, a beautiful sunrise appeared on the horizon, as golden and perfect as the very first ray of sun at the beginning of time.