Best 2148 quotes in «horror quotes» category

I'd ask my parents to leave the door open just a little bit so I wouldn't be stuck in the prison of my bedroom and mind, the imaginary horrors barring me from entering dreamland.

I discovered news of old horrors in old books; read intelligence of old atrocities in old periodicals; always in the back of my mind, every day a bit louder, I heard the seashell drone of some growing, coalescing force; I seemed to smell the bitter ozone aroma of lightings-to-come.

I didn't panic until my chest collapsed and I couldn't breathe. I gasped until I no longer had a throat to do it with. I didn't feel like I was holding my breath - it was more like I had no lungs.

I didn't want to be the woman who gave herself over willingly to the first man to notice her. I didn't want to be the stupid girl in every novel who loved without question and entered relationships that didn't make sense.

I'd like to be a handsome corpse. At my funeral, I'd like people to look in my coffin and say, "Wow. He's so handsome when he's dead!" I guess it'd be kind of okay, too, if they made my books required reading in schools or something, but as far as leaving a legacy goes, I just want to be the hottest cadaver in the graveyard.

I'd like to be a handsome corpse. At my funeral, I'd like people to look in my coffin and say, "Wow. He's so handsome when he's dead!" I guess it'd be kind of okay, too, if they made my books required reading in schools or something, but mostly, I just want to be the hottest cadaver in the graveyard.

I don't believe in monsters." "Well, Red, I think you might want to start." Pike turned and looked him in the eye. "What do you think those green things were? And what do you think is trying to smash its way in here? A pony?

I don't believe in curses, you know. Nor in ghosts or anything precisely supernatural. But I do believe that emotions and events have a certain...lingering resonance. It may be that emotions can even communicate themselves in certain circumstances, if the circumstances are peculiar enough...the way a carton of milk will take the flavour of certain strongly spiced foods if it's left open in the refrigerator.

I don't complain about the horror of life; I complain about the horror of my life. The only fact I worry about is that I exist and suffer and can't even dream of being removed from my feeling of suffering.

I don't have expensive tastes – just bloody ones. – Vampire Dragul Mangorian

I don't imagine book elitists as my audience when writing. I dream about teachers, morticians and garbage men instead.

I don’t know how these things died without benefit of a bullet to the brain pan. They seemed to exist in an eternal twilight of longing.

I don't know how the Wolfman knows all this, but he's not wrong. My warm cheeks turn scalding hot. "Your shame is a good sign. You may break sooner than I thought. The breaking is good. It purifies.

I don't know if ghouls are allowed to live either. But there has to be a reason we exist.

I don’t know. How can you know? I…I’m a monster. When I’m hungry, I might do anything." "Oh no, of course I couldn’t possibly understand you." Violet’s shadowed face seemed to be wearing a grim and serious smile. "I know, you woke up one day and found out that you couldn’t be the person you remembered being, the little girl everybody expected you to be. You just weren’t her any more, and there was nothing you could do about it. So your family decided you were a monster and turned on you." Violet sighed, staring out into the darkness. "Believe me, I do understand that. And let me tell you - from one monster to another - that just because somebody tells you you’re a monster, it doesn’t mean you are. "just now you told me what you did because you want me to stop you from eating Pen. If you were a real monster, you wouldn’t have done that, would you?" Trista’s eyes stung, and she wiped strands of cobweb away with her sleeve. "Idiot," added Violet, for good measure.

I don't know where we are, but we'll soon find our way home!" Le avventure di Pinocchio

I don't remember ever signing up for weird. It just sort of happened.

I don’t want to die fighting a losing battle.

I examined the portraits nearest to me but couldn't get past the sensation that here was the same man over and over, crouched in old boxes, readying himself to spit on my plate.

I exhort you only to one thing, that you rise up for Allah's sake by twos and simply; then ponder! There is no madness in your companion. He is only a warner to you before a severe chastisement.

If blood can produce money through rituals or the so-called human sacrifice, then it is the basis on which we live, so it is very essential to save and protect it from the fiendish eyes of blood sucking predators.

I feel a blood moon rising" Neesa

I fear horror became so inextricably related to splatter punk in the late 1980s that a large segment of the audience turned away from it. And thriller became the more comfortable, cozier label because it promised a resolution, a happy ending. Horror came to mean, “I’m going to leave your ass out here in the dark with no way to get home. And one of your legs is missing.

If dreams can't come true, then why not pretend?

I feel that I was possessed…possessed by demons; those who are and always are going to be, they are inviting me, they desire me and they live because of me…

I felt absolutely nothing, and that frightened me even more than the darkness of oblivion

I felt my breath whimper in my throat. I tried to speak, but I was dumb. I tried to move, but I was frozen with fear. She opened her mouth, and I knew that she was about to speak - but then she reached inside, and pulled out her tongue.

I felt a lunatic’s laugh welling up inside me.

If I am horror writer, I should listen to metal??? - Why not to dubstep??? Or Deathstep???

If he looks at me like that again Dottie will need a bucket and mop to get me back to my room.

If I catch you, I might do anything. I might strip the skin from your bones as I drain you dry. Or I might drag you into my chambers and have you pleasure me in ways you cannot even imagine. I might even take mercy on you, and that would be the cruelest injustice of all, because for you, it would only be a temporary reprieve.

If I can keep writing just one good page a day, I will have 15 published novels in my expected lifetime. Tick, tick, tick...

If I'd been born a ghoul, I think I would've killed people. I just happened to be born a human. That's the only reason why I'm allowed to live a moral life.

If I become like you, I will have no will of my own. I will have no individuality, I will just be your puppet.’ 'True.’ Sio smiled thinly. 'But even a puppet may dance before its strings are drawn tight. You will dance, Cass, and the heavens will applaud you.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was a zombie for the simple reason that I thought he was dead, but then he seemingly came back to life and tried to eat my girlfriend. If that doesn’t make him a zombie, I don’t know what does!

If I have found favor in thy sight, and if it be possible, and if I be meet therefore, shew me then whether there be more to come than is past, or more past than is to come.

I finally find a girl I could really be with, maybe the only girl in the world, and I had what? Two months with her? It's not enough. After everything she went through - everything I went through - we deserve more than that. Or maybe we don't. Anyway, life doesn't work like that. It doesn't care about fair and unfair.

If I should ask thee how great dwellings are in the midst of the sea, or how many springs are in the beginning of the deep, or how many springs are above the firmament, or which are the outgoings of paradise: Peradventure thou would say unto me, ‘I never went down into the deep, nor as yet into hell, neither did I ever climb up into heaven.

If Mistery, Crime, Horror, True Crime, SuperNature, Fiction, Non-FIcition and many other categoris if they didn't exist, and people didn't find a way to relax. Nobody will be never on the way to reach the place where almost a lot of are now, people don't want normal life they want to view the life through a killer.

If life is pain, one could say that killing is an act of compassion. I look forward to my own death, you know. But dying is like losing you virginity. You can only do it once. I'm saving it for the right moment.

If my dreams came true I'd be living in a horror movie.

If one could only discover the unwritten bases of black magic and apply formulae to them, we would find that they were merely another form of science... perhaps less advance, perhaps more.

I found a brief piece of by Antonio Vivaldi around this time which became my ‘Pinhead Mood Music’. Called Al Santo Sepolcro (At The Holy Sepulchre), it opens more like a piece of modern orchestral music, and although it it moves toward Vivaldi’s familiar harmonies, there is always the threat that it will fall back into dissonance. The piece progresses in an exquisite agony, poised on a knife edge between beauty and disfigurement, joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain. Perfect.

If that other fellow doesn't know his happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me.

If the most High grant thee to live, thou shall see after the third trumpet that the sun shall suddenly shine again in the night, and the moon thrice in the day:

If therefore that which is sown be not turned upside down, and if the place where the evil is sown passes not away, then cannot it come that is sown with good?

If there’s anything in life that’s an undisputed fact, it’s this: Buildings with strange symbols carved in their lintels are bad news. You rarely find symbols leading to unicorns and fields of candy—and even that’s bad news if you’re diabetic.

If the 4th "dimension" is blocked, which is a kind of cosmic umbrella, through which 5D through 9D and higher are designed to operate in physical realms, being non-physical, then the Devil who controls "the spice" controls everything. It would be easy to continue with the reasons behind death, terrible plague on earth.

If there are ten thousand medieval peasants who create vampires by believing them real, there may be one–probably a child–who will imagine the stake necessary to kill it. But a stake is only stupid wood; the mind is the mallet which drives it home.

If there's one thing Robert had learned in three weeks at Lovecraft Middle School, it's that nothing was impossible.