Best 596 quotes in «demons quotes» category

I just feel I ran a lot while trying to escape from my demons. Today when I look around I am still in the same glass house, where they are all crawling on those glass walls and staring at me.

I just kill them because they were monsters and demons.

I just wish you could see my demons for what they are, and lay here beside me on the floor. No words. Just your presence.

I know you're more than fae." She just grinned. "It's true, I'm part fae, part awesome.

I kissed him briefly, “She’s family.” “That’s not always enough,” he reminded me, eyes shadowed. When it came to family, the guy had his own demons, both literally and figuratively.

I just want to matter,' he said unsmiling. It was like pulling a curtain back, peering behind a mask made of smiles and quips. This was the real James, this young, bright, desperate thing. There was a burning intensity to his eyes, and she saw for the first time a boy who would sell his heart--not for some hobby, but because he thought it was the only way to life the life he wanted. They had that in common.

I know.” The two words ghosted against the skin of her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine. “But I want to touch you. I want to put my hands all over you. I want to kiss every inch of you and taste you as you come apart in my arms. I want to feel you wrapped around me with nothing but my name on your lips and the sheets a tangled mess beneath us. I want…” He exhaled heavily into her ear. “I want. I want. I want!

I’ll meet you tomorrow morning at ten in your office, and explain everything. In the meantime, go home and get some sleep.” “I have a meeting with McConnell and Baroja tomorrow at ten A.M. to review some procedures,” he said. Now, that was the J.B. I knew. Never mind the demon attack; procedures needed reviewing.

I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.

I'm a demon. I do bad things. It's genetic.

I’ll never turn her away, Clyde. She’s my mate. I’ll protect her till my dying breath. I’ll even swallow my pride and ask a favor as momentous as the one I just asked of a man who has done nothing but try to drive a wedge between her and myself.

I mean,” her mother paused to choose her words, “maybe you’ll get involved in some school related activities, or join a team, or maybe meet a nice boy.” “Ugh,” Keely groaned, “I don’t have time for that stuff mom. We’ve talked about this.” “Because of the little ghost...searching…thingy you and Tad do?” “It’s called paranormal investigation mom.” “It’s called being antisocial.

I like to keep my dreams attainable. Eat cheese, sleep on a nice bed, have my work in the same museum as Rothko--the usual.

I made the decision. I want you more than I want heaven, more than I want to be an angel. I love you more than who I was created to be.

I'm about to cross a line with you...a line there will be no hope of me ever returning from. And I'm terrified because the thought of you excites me.

I’m a holiday Christian at best and I’d never given much thought to demons. They were an adult version of the boogieman hiding in every kid’s closet.

I'm just sorry your dragon is so hell bent on mating with someone as fucked up looking as me," he murmured, keeping his voice light even though he wasn't joking at all. God, everything about her was perfect. It was no surprise she was so resistant to mating with him.... To his surprise, she snorted and smacked his stomach. "Bran Devlin, you're the sexiest male I've ever met. If you want me to stroke your ego you're out of luck." Then, to his utter fucking surprise, she slid her hand lower and grasped his already hardening cock before looking up at him. Her smile was an erotic mix of uncertainty and wickedness. "But I don't mind stroking this.

I'm not letting you go.

I’m not going to hide away and leave my friends to the corelings!” she shouted. “We’ll find a way to ward the Holy House, and make our stand here. Together! And if demons should dare come and try to take my children, I have secrets of fire that will burn them from this world!” My children, Leesha thought, in the sudden silence that followed. Am I Bruna now, to think of them so? She looked around, taking in the scared and sooty faces, not a one taking charge, and realized for the first time that as far as everyone was concerned, she was Bruna. She was Herb Gatherer for Cutter's Hollow now. Sometimes that meant bringing healing, and sometimes... Sometimes it meant a dash of pepper in the eyes, or burning a wood demon in your yard.

I’m not letting you go, Fiona,” he murmured before brushing his lips over hers. She tasted like heaven. And his. Only his. “I’m not going anywhere.

I’m pretty sure your house isn’t haunted,” he said. She shrugged. “Part of me hopes you’re wrong.

I’m calling this place the Tardis,” she said, continuing to scan the different locations. “We’re not calling it the Tardis,” I said. Of course, if she knew what it could really do, I’d never change her mind. “Why the hell not?” she asked. “Copyright infringement.

I must complete my quest or I will die.

I never seem to have any level of restraint with you, woman.

I never studied on fighting demons, but that don't mean I aim to let this one defeat us. The dark ones have their share of limitations too.

I'm just...drifting." Maybe you are. But that's not what makes you who you are. Maybe you look at yourself and just see the scars, but it isn't a reflection of you as a whole. Sometimes the only way to do the right thing is to just keep saying no to that tempting offer.

I never thought my life would end like this. Being hunted by mythological creatures in my pajamas. Honestly, it never entered my mind.

In real life, love and hate are often only separable if we’re willing to recognize our demons and choose to become better people.

In the balance of things, new life always wins out over death...

Intellectualism is a poor master over passion

In the blink of an eye, the fairytales told to children were as real as death and taxes. Vampires, shifters, trolls, demons and creatures of myth, were as real as the air we breathe.

In the Deep South, God is a cotton king, Trussed up in plantation whites and powdered over smooth with a little bit of talcum from Momma’s compact. He’s the Georgia dust that gets on everything, in everything, Caking the soles of bare feet sifting through cracks in church pews, and catching in your lover’s eyelashes. In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boy who swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday. He is the one who reaches up your skirt, pulls out the prayers your were saving for someday and lights them on fire with his tongue. He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart, call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings, then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned. In the Deep South, the Holy Spirit is an old woman with hands brown and gnarled as the nuts she boils and a voice soft and dark as the Appalachian sky. She is the swamp kingdom matriarch children are sent to when sins need to be wished away like warts, the presence of whom straightens the spines of wayward souls and coaxes a “Yes Ma’am” from the devil’s own. In the Deep South, Jesus is a mixed-race child with drops of destiny mingled into his blood and the names of the saints tattooed along his spine. He has his mother’s bearing, one that wears suffering nobly, and baleful eyes that speak of the sins of his forefathers. The word of God flutters from his mouth like butterflies with bodies baptized in tears and wings dipped in steel. In the Deep South, angels drink too much. They sashay and guffaw and forget to return calls. They tell white lies and agonize over what to wear. In the Deep South, angels look very much like you and I, and they cling to each other with dustbowl desperation and replenish their failing reserves of grace with ritual in the hopes of remembering what they once were, what wonders they once were capable of performing

I pulled Thanos in for a kiss, surprising him. I wasn’t sure if it was our bond or the fear this might be my last kiss, but I didn’t hold anything back. I let him in. He took full advantage, plundering my mouth as if I were the last woman on Earth, which could have been a result of him being trapped in a desolate wasteland for the last five hundred years—but I decided not to overthink it.

I prefer not to call them demons. It demeans their nature. "But isn't that what they are?" "We should pity them more than fear them Alfred. They were angels once." "Yea, but didn't you say they rebelled against God? They got what they deserved." "Perhaps." He sighed. "Yet do we not all hope and pray that we ourselves escape that we truly deserve? None have fallen as far or as irrevocably as the outcasts of heaven. Did you not find them beautiful." "...They have gazed upon the very face of God, the face they will see no more for all eternity-and so I pity them. Even as I envy them for having seen it.

I pull on her tether all the time but it won’t sink in. I have a feeling I’m using too much magic. I can’t hold so many under my control and pull them in deep. Dean is the only one I have fully immersed. I am the puppet master. I am the only player on the board. Pacey doesn’t even know that the game has begun."-Lilith

I remember it taking place. They were dangerous back then. We were shut up, stopped in every way, detained by their power. They could just say one word and we had to leave! It was a horrible time for our kind." "What happened?" I ask, my strength slowly returning. "Well, when their leader left, years went by and a new normal set in, it became easier to get a hold on people. We came out of hiding. This, this right here is a great time for us. There are so many avenues and outlets for us to use!

I rolled my eyes. To Jack I said, "Don't mind him, he's just mad no one likes him." Jonas clenched his jaw.

I sighed. "Would it be too much to ask that Asgard be peaceful? Made up of big, fluffy clouds, serenity, and lots of hot yoga?

I smell?" "You smell..." He flicked a glance at Bo, who was growling. "You tell her then." Bo's jaw tightened, but he looked at her with a rawness on his face that completely undid her. "Like roses and sunshine. It makes them want to kill you or eat you or..." He cleared his throat, not needing to finish because she knew what he meant. "It's very enticing.

Is there anything I can do for you... besides die?

I sunk to my knees in the spot he had left me. I felt a part of me had just been lost. I was fraught with so many emotions, confused by them all; however, I was hurt more than anything. Hurt to hear him call himself a monster. A monster? Of all the things I thought he was, a monster was not one of them.

In our darkest hours in when we must look up to our Highest Almighty God. He is calling for you to be your best self now. Nothing is holding you back. Go for it!

Isaac stopped her at the bottom of the stairs with a crooked smile. "I would wish you sweet dreams, but how can they be memorable if I won't be in them?

It his mind, they reminded him of ‘Tweedle Dee’ and ‘Tweedle Dum’, with an extra emphasise placed on the ‘Dum’!

I think you’re wonderful. You’re the only person I have in this awful, twisted world, and it’s incredibly scary, but if I had to fight my way through this disease of a life with one person by my side, I’m glad it’s with you. You inspire me to be stronger, and I need to be strong.

It is beautiful to hear, how even the demons inside me have started singing your name.

It is only when a man tames his own demons that he becomes the king of himself if not of the world.

I try to never miss the Zumba class since I believe comedy is a great way to start your week. ...It was great fun, although I had to hold myself back from turning it into a giant mosh pit slam dance. Last time I did that they kicked me out for a month. Today I enjoyed watching an 80 year old lady - with a cane no less - shimmy, her boobs flying like weapons around her waist.

I THINK THE PSYCHE COMES UP WITH ALL KINDS OF CONTRIVANCES TO PROTECT WHAT IT THINKS IS VULNERABLE. AND SOMETIMES THOSE CONTRIVANCES ARE THAT YOU STAY IN A STATE OF UNHAPPINESS. OR VICTIMIZATION.

It took Pueblo a few seconds to take in his surroundings. The first thing he realised was that he felt bruised all over; the second was that his clothes were waterlogged, even more than before, from the quicksand; and the third, was that he had landed on his front and was lying on a large, uncomfortable stone. No, wait… In his disoriented state, he shifted his weight. The stone didn't move. He was lying on his own fucking erection.