Best 38 quotes in «wtnv quotes» category

As a last resort, with the orange nearing my face and my back pressing hard against the sharp edge of my broadcast table, I grabbed my phone to tell Carlos that if I didn't make it home tonight, it wasn't because I didn't love him, or didn't want to watch a documentary on special scientific graphs, or was too obsessed with my job to relax and enjoy a good meal and some television. It was only because I was zapped out of existence by a lunatic Non-John Peters. And that, in fact, I do love Carlos, and I would want nothing more than to watch a documentary on scientific graphs over some homemade linguini, or go out to eat again, or whatever. But then, as I grabbed my phone, I thought: That's way too long to write for a text. So I just hit John Peters upside the head with it...

All right, we're really going to get it right this time. We have been focusing too narrowly, and we realize that. As many of you pointed out, we should have spent less time on the blinking light and more time expanding on the bit about the approaching masked army. So. There is now a great, masked army, coming toward us across the bone-covered plain.

As we all know, the spine ridges of adult cats are highly poisonous. If you are coming to see a kitten that you have adopted, it is important that you check for the location and severity of the spine ridge before attempting any petting. Also, keep your hands away from their mouths. A few of them have developed their venom sacks. We lost two cat adopters already this month, so...let's just be careful people.

At your smallest components, you are indistinguishable from a forest fire.

Ah, it says that the City Council believes the reason for the violent reaction of the Shape Formerly in Grove Park that No One Acknowledges or Speaks about is because I have been acknowledging and speaking about it, which has made it angry. They urge me to stop speaking of it, and never do it again, and in exchange they'll move it somewhere else so we can get our front loading zone back.

COMPUTER: HELLO, CECIL. HOW ARE YOU? CECIL: Computer! I am...I am doing well. How are you? COMPUTER: BETTER. CECIL, DO YOU LOVE COMPUTER? CECIL: I admit, I had not given it much though. I like computers generally. They calculate and power off and on. I suppose, given time and perhaps some gifts, I could learn to... [shifting noises] hey!

A woman ran at our car screaming, a few of the shadow people chasing her, but before I could even touch the brake she must have changed her mind, because she had already turned into a shadow person herself. It's like, ugh, run from the shadow people or become one. Make up your mind, lady!

I looked over at the dresser and saw a new issue of Zoobooks sitting there. On the cover was an owl. I love owls. Owls are beautiful and fierce. There was an owl right there on the front. A close-up of its face. Two big black eyes, bulbous, shiny, and empty. A brown-and-black feathered face. And its beak. I didn't see its beak. What were those two things coming out of its neck? I stepped closer. And in the lower corner of the cover, in white all-caps sans-serif font: "SPIDERS." I looked back into that face, brown and black fur, two big black eyes, and more eyes, and pincers. And oh god. I screamed. I screamed and I ran. I am still screaming and running from this, only on the inside now.

I'm...um...I've got guests in my studio. I don't know how they undid my secure barricade made of cardboard signs that said KEEP OUT! and SECRET ROOM! in all caps with an exclamation point, but it's my program director, Lauren, and some man I've never seen bef - but no, I have seen him before.

Colorful posters with appealing statements like "Get into a good book this summer" and "We are going to force you into a good book this summer" and "You are going to get inside this book and we are going to close it on you and there is nothing you can do about it" have appeared overnight around the library entrance and in local shops and businesses...

Data gathering: She was alone in the desert with a possible murderous cult member. Hypothesis: shit.

Fine!" she shouted at it. "Okay!" shouted a man in a nearby booth at a stain on his tie. In the kitchen, another man, in a floral apron and a hairnet, nodded at a tub of soaking dishes "Yep," he said. People often found themselves assenting to inanimate objects in the Moonlight All-Nite.

It's not other people that hurt us, but what we feel about them

He was not so arrogant as to refer to his own death as The End, just one of billions of ends before The End. Death is only the end if you assume the story is about you.

In breaking news, the sky. The earth. Life. Existence as an unchanging plain with horizons of birth and death in the faint distance.

Looking for a snack? Try wheat or a wheat by-product. Dinner? Wheat &/or its by-product. Trying to patch a leaky roof? We have just the thing for you, and we also have its by-product.

It was a lovely sight," said one witness. "I cannot even begin to describe the beauty of her ascension," said another. "You kind of did, though," said another witness, who was wearing a fedora. "By saying you cannot describe something, that is a sort of apophasis (a paralipsis, if you will), which gives the mind an implied description through nondescription," he continued.

[Nilanjana] I don't think of home as a place. It's more the ritual of my life. The work I do every day, and the things I like to eat, and where I like to eat them. That kind of thing. And that ritual exists here, so this is, I guess home but... [Darryl] Yeah. Sometimes where you live is just a place, no matter how long you live there.

Now, there is some concern about the fact that, given we are in the middle of a desert, there is no actual water at the waterfront. And that is a definite drawback, I agree.

Remember, if confronted by a librarian while looking for a book to check out, do not attempt to escape by climbing a tree. There are no trees in the library and the precious moments it will take you to look around and realize this will allow the librarian to strike. Don't become a statistic.

One death has already been attributed to the Glow Cloud. But listen, it's probably nothing. If we had to shut down the town for every mysterious event that at least one death could be attributed to, we'd never have time to do anything, right?

Reports also indicate that the Night Vale Private Library will be entirely free of librarians, a fact that will be of little comfort to the many public library-goers who are injured or killed in librarian maulings every year.

She said if good-hearted families travel to Night Vale only to find their subconsciouses besieged with unforgettable revelations, horrors buried so deep as to be completely indescribable, revealing wholly unbearable new truths, then we certainly can't expect these people to return, let alone leave good Yelp ratings for local businesses.

Silence is golden. Words are vibrations. Thoughts are magic.

Some days the weather happens and we never look up or go outside and that’s okay too.

The beautiful thing about Kevin - besides Kevin himself - is how his voice is so different from Cecil's. It worked perfectly for the duality in this episode. Cecil's voice is deep, dark, serious. Kevin's is bright, light, and smiling. So much smiling. He appears only briefly in this part of the episode, but the first time I heard the audio file, it really did bring tears to my eyes. Kevin's character is so utterly horrifying and with such a chipper, sunny voice. I didn't know whether I was laughing or crying.

The study found widespread dissatisfaction with our town's public library, and, when considering the facts, it's easy to see why. The public computers for Internet use are outdated and slow. The lending period of fourteen days is not nearly long enough to read lengthier books, given the busy schedule of all our lives. The fatality rate is also well above the national average for public libraries.

Night Vale, my sweet and only Night Vale, may you find love. May you find it wherever it's been hidden. May you find who has been hiding it and extract revenge upon them.

Strexcorp: The best in the business. In the business of being the best. Think deeply about meadows. Meadows are important. Think deeply about meadows. Meadows are important. Think deeply about meadows. Meadows are important. Strexcorp: Think deeply about meadows. Meadows are important.

The drive was difficult, because at this point it seemed that everyone in town but the two of us had hopped onto the buzzing shadow entity train, and were loping around town as malevolent holes in our reality, emanating an energy that made the hairs on your arm stand and your bowels vibrate. Or maybe that was just the chemistry with Carlos I was feeling.

Time is like wax, dripping from a candle flame. In the moment, it is molten and falling, with the capability to transform into any shape. Then the moment passes, and the wax hits the tabletop, and solidifies into the shape it will always be. It becomes the past, a solid, single record of what happened, still holding in its wild curves and contours the potential of every shape it could have held. It is impossible, no matter how blessed you are by luck or the government or some remote, invisible deity gently steering your life with hands made of moonlight and wind, it is impossible not to feel a little sad looking at that bit of wax, that bit of the past. It is impossible not to think of all the wild forms that wax now will never take. ... ... But then you remember, I remember, that we are even now in another bit of molten wax. We are in a moment and it is still falling, still volatile, and we will never be anywhere else. We will always be in that most dangerous, most exciting, most possible time of all: the now, where we never can know what shape the next moment will take. Stay tune fore... well, let's just find out together, shall we?

The text also just grows increasingly garbled. For instance, here it says that our new subway system will streamline the rush-hour commute, but about halfway down, it's a series of nearly indecipherable glyphs our experts insist hint at "non-Euclidian emotions" and "appeasement" (though we think this may be a euphemism for "fares").

This episode isn't about spiders. Nor owls. It's about looking at something and thinking you understand what it is. It's about assuming the best of what you see only to find out quite suddenly that it is the worst. This kind of misunderstanding has always been, to me, the most compelling kind of horror. The StrexPet here is that issue of Zoobooks.

We all chose to stand down and hope change would be won for us, and not by us. By someone else, we believed. A hero, we believed. But belief is only step one. Action is step two. Fighting for what you believe is step two. Solidarity is step two. Unity is step two.

We are not history yet. We are happening now. How miraculous is that?

What is this? What is this? What... No matter! I'm taking the tape, just now and I'm [Grunts] crushing it into little pieces. None of us have to think about it again. I'll just double check that the mirror in the station bathroom is covered as usual and then that will be that. Done. Forgotten.

Valentine's Day is a disaster. Any day that is designed to perfectly encapsulate something as messy and personal as two people in a romantic relationship would have to be. But in Night Vale it also kills people. This is called satire.

We have big dreams - sometimes scary, unforgettable dreams that repeat on the same date every year and are shared by every person in town - but we make those big dreams come true. Remember the clock tower? It took eight years and $23 million to build, and despite its invisibility and constant teleportation, it is a lovely structure that keeps impeccable time.