Best 1001 quotes in «thriller quotes» category

For several moments, Mary couldn't hear anything over the violent pounding of her pulse.

For two years, she and Cassie had been inseparable. And then one night, Cassie had disappeared from her bed. In her place, her abductor had left his calling card, a macabre nursery rhyme. Cassie had never come home.

Frantically, I mouthed WWMKAAD (What would Mary-Kate and Ashley do?) to myself over and over until the rage subsided a bit.

Friends call me Brie. You may call me Ms. Stewart.” “Stewart? Not Prime?” She shrugged. “I legally changed my last name to my mother’s maiden name.” “Like Prime Petroleum changed to Prime Energy a dozen years ago? Obvious and unconvincing greenwashing.” “I wasn’t greenwashing, I simply no longer wished to be associated with Prime Energy, and the decision to change my last name sent a clear message to Jeffrey Senior.

From now on, it is our task to suspect each and everyone amongst us. Forewarned is forearmed. Take no risks and be alert to danger. That is all.

From one small spark a bushfire grows. Sellers of misery are our foes. Merging ruthlessly tongues of flame. Point your finger at those to blame.

Fuck you! Someone has tortured and killed one of your girls and you couldn’t give a damn? I thought you were supposed to protect them, to be their guardian. Isn’t that what pimps do?’ Garcia’s face flared red.

Further north, I met a Siberian hermit who lived in the foothills of the Ural Mountains. His life’s passion was wrestling black bears ... in the nude (him not the bears). He did not know why he did it. All the hermit knew was that if he stopped wrestling bears, he would die.

Galton was a world renowned anthropologist back in the nineteenth century, though he was a big overshadowed by his cousin, Charles Darwin.

Gambling wasn't even about the money, was it? Not the action, not the bells, not the adrenaline, those were just add-ons. It was about the luck . . . the jouissance of gambling, it was pure, goddamned luck. The high holiest of holies.

General sentiment, had a poll been taken, was that eventually the negative media would die down, Egypt's head of antiquities would return to Cairo, and St. Louis would enjoy her treasure. But treasures sometimes have a higher price than their acquisition cost.

Genetic engineering was messy. To force a sequence of foreign DNA into a plant, you couldn’t just snip the desired gene from the bacteria and sew it on to the plant’s DNA sequence like an old woman working on a quilt.

Giving him a wry look, Shiloh said, “I think you’re forcing me to look at myself, what I want, who I am.” “Good relationships always do that for both people, Darlin’. It’s just a natural progression between them. It can bring out our self-awareness. It’s not easy. But it’s rewarding.

God don't give out certain.

God works in mysterious ways. Sometimes he uses anonymous people.

Grayson figured the Aliens R Us crew would want to spend the majority of their time near the open field because rumor had it, if you stayed the night at the fire pit and glanced over, you'd see a beam of light touch the ground.

Good always has a price, Marcus. Evil comes free.

Greed has already poisoned their minds, they cannot see they are being robbed.

He brushed his lips over hers, and this time his kiss was a bit more heated than the last. She clutched onto him, deepening it until he pulled back. He groaned, simmering heat in his gaze. "Let's get you in the bath before I lose my head." "Maybe after the bath you can lose it.

Had a big trial. It was like an Errol Flynn movie.

Havens reached into his ear and pinched enough of the latex with his fingernails to withdraw the device. He dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his foot. He didn’t care if it was found. It was French-made. Procured for that very purpose. F*** overwatch. Screw the French.

Have you ever wondered why a woman would violate the sisterhood code by stealing men and destroying families without a trace of guilt or remorse? What is going on in her head to make her act that way? She may be a sociopathic sex addict—a Sexopath. Unfortunately, Sexopaths are very difficult to detect because they look like everyone else and lying comes as easily as breathing to them. The only way to protect ourselves, our relationships, and our families is to recognize these people for who they are. If we can understand how they think, we can beat them at their own game. Enter the mind of the ultimate anti-hero inspired by an actual socipathic sex addict—you are going to love to hate her!

He attained the highest mastery of Korean martial arts—he could hurl himself through the air and crack cement blocks with his bare hands. In knife-fighting drills, he developed a thousand different reflexes to disarm and stab people. He learned to shoot all manner of firearms…Justin Moon had become the ideal South Korean soldier—with stony strength, quickness, and above all, endurance.

He continued along the route that he had reconnoitered the morning before. And the morning before that. He needed to change his route some to see if he was actually being followed. His instincts said he was clear, but his training ordered him to make sure.

He couldn’t jeopardize the saloon because of some silly infatuation with an outlaw. Even one as beautiful as Mariah Ayers.

He’d have denied it to his dying breath but Derwent wasn’t as tough as he pretended to be. For the very small number of people he cared about, Derwent would give his all. It made him vulnerable, and every now and then that vulnerability showed.

He'd never killed a woman in cold blood before, but now was as good a time as any.

He felt like a baked bean in a can, soaring through the air on a downward turn of a parabolic arc...

He had no problem with flies or bugs or beetles, even creepy ones like earwigs and cockroaches...Six legs were fine, but eight were alien and unnatural. 'The same number of legs as four fully-grown serial killers!

Hank Knight asked questions about Jesse Rose and an item that was taken from her crib the night she was kidnapped. His questions led our lawyer to believe Hank had knowledge about the crime and possibly where Jesse Rose is now. I think he got too close to the truth. Too close to the kidnapper's accomplice. And if I'm right then you can help me prove it.

Havens turned again. Someone else passed between the trucks. That someone walked with less purpose than the other workers near the stalls. To Havens this meant a surveillance asset was on him and it probably was not an assassination attempt. It eased him back into relative comfort for just a moment or two more.

He could not have faced her right then. He had started to sense their relationship was over, that she wanted more than he could ever give her. They hardly saw each other any longer, had nothing much to discuss, and had even ceased doing the one thing they were good at. Still, to smell the sheets where she had lain brought him a certain peace, lulling him to sleep under the veil of her perfume. He dreamed they were married, running beneath a flurry of white rose petals, and then a door slammed shut, and suddenly he was awake. He was back at Cedar House, and it was night and the room was dark.

He could sense in her the same spirit that ran in his veins. They were people with independent minds. They were not clerks at desks. They preferred to act. Accomplish something. They were rushing to reach the end. Such people need to be left alone. They are used to the darkness, the silence, the waiting. They belong to the same family. That of leopards.

He didn’t want to do this… He had come here to hide.

He didn’t like the idea of leaving unfinished business behind. He had wanted definite answers about the heart attacks to be able to turn the page on who or what caused so many of his brothers to die.

He felt as though the bones of his ribcage were snapping beneath the weight of the stone that God had laid over his heart.

He grinned, a very dark and evil grin… the kind of grin that the Grinch had before he stole Christmas.

He had never actually said what he hunted, only that he enjoyed it.

He had the muscular definition of a man who had spent his life restraining elephants in heat.

He locked gazes with her. “I have to wonder why you aren’t being straight with me. I hate getting myself killed without knowing why.

He looks up and up and up to get to her face. His mama's a tall lady, and he's only seven. He's overwhelmed by red. Red heels, red nails, red lips, red hair, red eyes. So help him, the boy has always thought his mama's copper-colored eyes damn near shined red. He looks into those eyes and knows she's come home funny.

He looked up to the gods but never accepted their eternal superiority. For better or worse, plotting their overthrow was the only aspiration that stoked the fires of destiny. Such an exalted ambition was worthy of a man who had long accomplished the chore of dominating human minds. A man so terrified of finding himself alone in a stratosphere where no one could understand just how exceptional he was. In that place, the presumed existence of gods was a great comfort, especially in a profession in which his rivals were mere mortals.

He opened the side pocket of his bag and took out a photograph , stared it for long. It had been so many years, but he knew this was the right time to come back on her life and execute his plan.

He noticed her eyes were a rich, warm brown, the same color as his favorite horse. "Yes?" He realized he'd been staring. At least he had the sense not to voice his thoughts. He doubted she would appreciate her eye color being compared to that of his horse's hide even if it was his favorite.

He realised he was in a chair. The world was white and blurry in half his vision, and it took him a few moments to realise a sheet of paper was stuck to his face.

Her biggest fear was that Flynn would walk away before she could even start to worry about him not coming home.

Here we are, squabbling over tuna fucking sandwiches and there she is – almond-shaped green eyes, snub nose, lopsided grin, the hint of a dimple in her cheek. ‘MISSING’ is stamped over her face in large black letters.

Her grief was now doubled by his grief. She wondered how many heartbreaks a child so young could endure.

Her voice was small and distant, like she’d already left the room.

Hell, I've always like the man," he said now. "Until he became involved with my wife.