Best 2148 quotes in «horror quotes» category

You don't think I could bring myself to mark your lovely skin? I'll take my knife to you, if that's the case. I'll carve my name in your breast so that every beat of your heart will remind you that you are mine—and mine alone. Because blood is binding, and because I would rather see you destroyed than see you free or in the possession of another, so I suggest you not try me, or you will suffer as no earthly creature has.” He slammed her back against the wall. “Or ever will. But that is a suggestion, and one you are free to disregard at your own peril. But you are are going to answer my question.

You have done well so far, my magnificent creature. Soon you will be with me.

You have no idea what it’s like, knowing you’re going to die in an hour. Sixty short minutes are now the only things that separate you from the other side. From the country undiscovered by the living. From that inevitable end we all must face. Guess that’s what the whole death row thing is about, though. If you ask me now if I feel sorry for what I’ve done, I’d have to tell you plainly the answer is no. I’d do it all again, given the opportunity. I’d kill them all. Over, and over, and over. The court-appointed psychiatrist described me as having a “severe antisocial personality disorder with excessive violent tendencies.” But I’m letting you know now I never stood out in a crowd. Never drew attention to myself. I was just a regular woman, one you’d see in the convenience store, and smile at politely. Who would have ever suspected what I was capable of? All those people. Those useless, useless people. I gave them a use. I was an artist. And my canvas of choice was the clean human skull.

You have really nice teeth,” Terry said and thought they could be excellent for his collection of human body parts.

You have the right to remain silent,' the big cop said in his robot's voice. 'If you do not choose to remain silent, anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. I'm going to kill you. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?

You in the jungle, baby,” a tinny voice trilled. “Wake up. Time to dieeeee!

You killed me.” My voice was unsteady. He held me close again. “I brought you back.” “Please tell me we only have to do that once.” He whispered against my ear, “I swear I won’t kill you again. Cross my heart and hope to die.” It was a bad joke

You know, there was a time when childbirth was possibly the most terrifying thing you could do in your life, and you were literally looking death in the face when you went ahead with it. And so this is a kind of flashback to a time when that's what every woman went through. Not that they got ripped apart, but they had no guarantees about whether they were going to live through it or not. You know, I recently read - and I don't read nonfiction, generally - Becoming Jane Austen. That's the one subject that would get me to go out and read nonfiction. And the author's conclusion was that one of the reason's Jane Austen might not have married when she did have the opportunity...well, she watched her very dear nieces and friends die in childbirth! And it was like a death sentence: You get married and you will have children. You have children and you will die. (Laughs) I mean, it was a terrifying world.

You know what’s worse than burying your own child? Not burying your own child.

You'll never see us coming.

...you'll shit yourself

You'll regret that, Bourkan.

You make your decisions for the greater good. But I don't know a thing about what it takes to attack an investigator or the laws of the ghoul world either. That's why I want to see it for myself before I decide what I'm going to do!

You mistake tragedy for horror because no one likes true sadness.

You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me.

You Never Have To Worry About Anything, If You Just Tell The Truth.

You need to stop listening to others telling you what you can't do and prove them wrong.

Your cunning has proved to be that of Cain. I grant you power over the Hellmouth. May Samael take my revenge." The thing said with a bitter look and a voice that seemed to be many.

Your desire for vengeance will cause countless deaths, child,” she said, pointing a crooked finger at Rhylie. “Innocents will be caught up in your maelstrom, their lives torn apart. People you have never met, and will never know will die beneath your shadow if you do not stop. You tear the galaxy asunder with each step you take towards Vorcia.

You’re just spooked. It’s Halloween; we’re all kind of spooked. That’s just the way it is. - Tory

You’re beautiful when you do that.” She dropped her gaze to his. “What’s that?” “Smile.

You’re forgetting… we never get in trouble in that class. Remember I gave Mr. Hendry that lap dance last year. I’m thinking he’s expecting one this year as well. - Carol

You're so beautiful when you're dead.

You state here that you believe your daughter, Amy, is no longer with you; that the girl living in your house - who looks and sounds exactly like Amy - is not in fact your daughter. Is this correct? Is this still the case?

Your friend will pay deeply for what he’s done here tonight,” Chance snarled once he wiped off most of the blood. “You can tell him to run as far and as fast as he can, I’ll get him. Just let him know that once this is all over, it’s just gonna be you and me and a world full of corpses.

Your heart is burning strong with righteous indignation... That flame is scattering sparks that may set fire elsewhere. That fire of yours will one day spread to others seeking a just world. The point is whether you have a torch in your heart or not. To light a fire to others.

You saw what I saw, right? Adrienne doing something nice for Xarissa of her own free will. I think I did, said G.A Lunette stared into the unknown. This has to be a sign of the coming apocalypse We are all going to die.

You stole my story and something's got to be done about it.

You think you know about pain? Talk to my second wife. She does. Or she thinks she does. She says that once when she was nineteen or twenty she got between a couple of cats fighting – her own cat and a neighbor’s – and one of them went at her, climbed her like a tree, tore gashes out of her thighs and breasts and belly that you still can see today, scared her so badly she fell back down her again, all tooth and claw and spitting fury. Thirty-six stitches I think she said she got. And a fever that lasted days. My second wife says that’s pain. She doesn’t know shit, that woman.

You tell a soul or even God Hisself what you seen when the rougarou changes , or even that you met one, and a year ain’t passed, you’re liable to change to one yourself.

You want to know what I'm afraid of? All right, I'll tell you. I'm afraid of men - yes, I'm very much afraid of men. And I'm even more afraid of women. And I'm very much afraid of the whole bloody human race. Afraid of them? Of course I'm afraid of them. Who wouldn't be afraid of a pack of damned hyenas? [...] And when I say afraid - that's just a word I use. What I really mean is that I hate them. I hate their voices, I hate their eyes, I hate the way they laugh. I hate the whole bloody business. It's cruel, it's idiotic, it's unspeakably horrible. I never had the guts to kill myself or I'd have got out of it long ago.

Your fortune teller cursed me. Foul spirits haunt every supermarket I go to. I can't show my face in Morrisons.

Your friends drag you down, Gordie. Don't you know that? [...] Your friends do. They're like drowning guys that are holding onto your legs. You can't save them. You can only drown with them.

Your tills are talking to me and want me to take them home. Does this often happen?

You shouldn’t have done that, Dave.

You think horror enters spectacularly. It doesn't. It just prosaically turns up. Even in the first seconds you know you'll find it a room.

You told us this place was haunted. How haunted is it?" Paul cast a quick glance at the house. "I'm not sure. When they found the bodies twenty years ago, the place became off-limits. That was horror enough. There were whispers of strange stuff going on before then, but no one is alive who could verify a thing. Somehow, an urban legend grew about the whole island. "Don't go near haunted Ormsby Island. They say a reporter went out alone one night just after the mass murder had been discovered and never came back. Since anyone who had committed the murders was either dead or gone at that point, it had to be the island itself that offed the reporter. Mitch, Ormsby Island isn't even on most maps of Charleston Harbor. Locals will turn away the moment you even say its name.

You understand nothing of—the horror—no wonder you can't write real books—you don't see—the horror—

You want to know how to stop this killer? Forgive yourself, and he’ll disappear from your life forever.” “Thanks. I’ll be sure to do that.” And I know: 1. This is almost the same conversation I’ve had with myself many times before. 2. Gordon’s only trying to help. But it doesn’t matter. I: 1. Say, “See you later.” 2. Step outside. 3. Close the door. I don’t want to, really. I want to go back inside and believe Gordon’s words, like a child believing in a fairy tale, and I want to escape this nightmare forever. But I can’t. I realize now that it’s easy to tell the difference between a real problem and an imaginary one. It’s just the terror of facing the truth that’s hard.

You will be more strong if you face your fears... so start by facing them!

You will never be pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, successful enough, or famous enough for the media

You will die like a dog for no good reason.

You will not say how you are haunted by the faces of the men you killed, how in their last gasp of life they sought your pity and you had none. You will not speak of the boys who died screaming for their mothers while you twisted a blade in their guts and snarled your scorn into their ears. You will not confess that you wake in the night, covered in sweat, heart hammering, shrinking from the memories. You will not talk of that, because that is the horror, and the horror is held in the heart’s hoard, a secret, and to admit it is to admit fear, and we are warriors. We do not fear. We strut. We go to battle like heroes. We stink of shit.

A glimpse into the world proves that horror is nothing other than reality.

A Failure in this Duty did once involve our Nation in all the Horrors of Rebellion and Civil War.

A good horror film is something that taps into something absolutely truthful about us - about what we want, about what we're terrified of - and brings that to life on screen in such a way that we can get close enough to that character to let our defenses down and want them to be safe.

'Alien' is one of my all-time favorite horror films - that has a great monster.

All nonstate threats to life, liberty, and property appear to be relatively petty and therefore can be dealt with. Only states can pose truly massive threats, and sooner or later the horrors with which they menace mankind invariably come to pass.

'American Horror' is the debasement of the suburban family, the way a lonely kid would have imagined it in the Seventies.

Almost the whole of history is but a sequence of horrors.