Best 302 quotes in «beast quotes» category

You have to starve the Beast. That's one of the most important things about tax cuts. If you leave the money in Washington, it's going to be spent.

8 April 1891 The obscenity of nostrils and mouths; the ignominious cupidity of smiles and women encountered in the street; the shifty baseness on every side, as of hyenas and wild beasts ready to bite: tradesmen in their shops and strollers on their pavements. How long must I suffer this? I have suffered it before, as a child, when, descending by chance to the servant's quarters, I overheard in astonishment their vile gossip, tearing up my own kind with their lovely teeth. This hostility to the entire race, this muted detestation of lynxes in human form, I must have rediscovered it later while at school. I had a repugnance and horror for all base instincts, but am I not myself instinctively violent and lewd, murderous and sensual? Am I any different, in essence, from the members of the riotous and murderous mob of a hundred years ago, who hurled the town sergeants into the Seine and cried, 'String up the aristos!' just as they shout 'Down with the army!' or 'Death to the Jews!

A beast barely able to restrain itself carried a risk to its master.

An anomaly has his own ambitions. You can try reasoning with him, but that's like using money to bribe a beast.

As he shook off his servant’s grip and staggered heavily to his feet, the sunlight streaming through the outside door struck him full in the face. Samantha gasped. A fresh scar, still red and angry, bisected the corner of his left eye and descended down his cheek in a jagged lightning bolt, drawing the skin around it taut. It had once been an angel’s face with the sort of masculine beauty reserved only for princes and seraphim.

A short while later, as I stare down at the bodies of the six men I have just killed, I cannot help but wonder: Do I love killing? Of a certainty, I love the way my body and weapons move as one; I revel in the knowledge of where to strike for maximum impact. And of a certainty, I am good at it. But so is Beast. He is perhaps even better at it than I am, and yet for all that, he feels as bright and golden as a lion who roars in the face of his enemies and stalks them in broad daylight. Whereas I—I am a dark panther, slinking unseen among the shadows, silent and deadly. But we are both great cats, are we not? And do not even bright things cast a shadow?

Being a werewolf, an alpha more so, isn't about being aggressive over others but controlling yourself, the wolf's wild virus inside my DNA, and emotions that comes with the beast.

Bureaucracy is a huge beast; deeply rooted, it exists even among artists; it’s an almost losing battle against it.

You've got a man-beast, and a ho-beast.

Cannot a Beast be tamed?

Young children are such nasty little beasts!

Certainly no beast has essayed the boundless, infinitely inventive art of human hatred. No beast can match its range and power.

Curled on my side, I snuggled deeper into the pile of furs lying under me. From the darkness, something growled softly and silenced the bird as a large warm hand soothed my hair. I sank back into my slumber.

Come on, let's get you an apron." There probably wasn't any real point in making him wear something over his fur and ragged clothes. Still, she tied a tablecloth up and around his neck, trying not to make him look ridiculous. Actually, if the thick white cloth had leather straps, he could easily be Hephaestus or one of his titan helpers working the forge on Olympus. But they were going to make ratatouille, not swords for heroes. "...And buckwheat crepes, and an onion tart, and coq au... um... Riesling, in a skillet," she added thoughtfully, looking at the time. The clock in the kitchen didn't talk, thankfully. "We don't have time for a true coq au vin or cassoulet. Oooh, and a tarte tatin for dessert!

Do not wander in the deeps, Where the Shriker's shadow creeps. When he rises from beneath, Beware the Sharpness of his teeth.

Darkness will come knocking. It will offer everything you never had. But its gift is just a cheap knockoff of something it cannot be. Never accept the hand of the Beast.

CHILDREN Are Like ANGELS And On Earth, ANGELS Have No Color.... It's The Society To Blame That Teaches Racism, Turning An ANGLE To A Civilized Beast While They Are Growing Up....

Don't consider my kindness as my weakness, the beast in me is sleeping not dead.

Do you dwell on everyone’s junk when you meet them? Like, all you do all day long is think about dicks and janes? Is that your thing, Bailey? You can’t stop thinking about what’s in everyone’s pants?

Gert: What... what just happened? Chase: I don't know, but guess who totally stole Cookie Monster's glasses! Gert: Whew, for a second there, I was worried we almost learned something. Chase: Ooo, look at me! I'm a big fluffy nerd!

Everything free and decent in life is being locked away in filthy little cellars by beastly people who don't care.

Hello, hello, hello. You’re here. You’re finally here. I’m Beast, though I prefer Bea. Guess what? I’m yours, and you’re mine.

Good character going bad is like a beast escaping it's cage; it will be hard to capture it again!

His silence made her lift one shoulder defensively. If he was trying to intimidate her, he was doing a first-rate job. Just when she was going to say something else- she didn't know what, but something that would crush this beast and his pretensions- he started forward. At once she realized she had named him correctly. He was a beast. He moved like a panther on the prowl, all smooth and leggy- and he prowled toward her. The closer he got, the bigger he seemed, tall and broad at the shoulder. He seemed an element of nature, a rugged mountain, a powerful sea- or a beast, a huge, ruthless beast who kept his claws hidden until he chose to use them. In a moment of panic, the imposter thought, My God, Madeline, what have you let me in for?

I can appreciate that he wants to do it himself, but I'm kind of done with prideful men

Her beauty is laced in her strength and interwoven through her flaws. She embodies perfection.

If it weren't for dreams," he said. "I wouldn't know half the things I know about the future. They're better than Olympus tabloids." He cleared his throat then held up his hands dramatically: "Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff" "Apollo?" I guessed, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips, "[Shh] I'm incognito. Call me Fred.

I heard her voice, her stories, her softness as she spoke of her family, and her iron as she spoke of me - I heard her scream, and I moved without thought.

I have a big heart and give with love everywhere I go, i am hungry for life and if you do me bad you will be my fucking dinner.

I’ll rid the world of each one of you,” he whispered. “Every single one…

From the twilight of day till the twilight of evening, a leopard, in the last years of the thirteenth century, would see some wooden planks, some vertical iron bars, men and women who changed, a wall and perhaps a stone gutter filled with dry leaves. He did not know, could not know, that he longed for love and cruelty and the hot pleasure of tearing things to pieces and the wind carrying the scent of a deer, but something suffocated and rebelled within him and God spoke to him in a dream: "You live and will die in this prison so that a man I know of may see you a certain number of times and not forget you and place your figure and symbol in a poem which has its precise place in the scheme of the universe. You suffer captivity, but you will have given a word to the poem." God, in the dream, illumined the animal's brutishness and the animal understood these reasons and accepted his destiny, but, when he awoke, there was in him only an obscure resignation, a valorous ignorance, for the machinery of the world is much too complex for the simplicity of a beast.

I'm a lion in a strange land.

I shall eat anyone who tries to steal my singing, springing lark!

I once had been in the middle of a mass chaos and terrible riots. There, I witnessed how men were truly such as beasts unleashed.

I stood on the edge of that abyss between man and beast and played my harp for you, checking each note, one by one, to see if it would reach you.

In such a beast as this..." (he means the army)"...it was the collective power that went, collapsing like a long-exhausted animal, at once falling under its own weight as much as that of its enemy. It was a collective death and not a matter of bravery or even strength, and once it was down it was finished as a battle.

I think we cry to release the animal parts of us without losing our humanity. Because inside me is a beast that snarls, and growls, and strains toward freedom, toward Tobias, and, above all, toward life. And as hard as I try, I cannot kill it.

Love Has a way of wilting Or blossoming At the strangest, Most unpredictable hour. This is how love is, An uncontrollable beast In the form of a flower.

I've finally decided to write about profit for a change But before I really started I already started to feel lame Baby what's it to a beast who manely to money remains untamed

Man is not a beast of burden, and the Sabbath is not for the purpose of enhancing the efficiency of his work.

It is also the irrational instinct of religionism, the vague yearning for something to worship—a reflection or shadow of the true devotional principle—which prompts men to project a subjective image of the lower, personal mind, and to endow it with human attributes, and then to claim to receive "revelations" from it; and this—the image of the Beast, or unspiritual mind,—is their anthropomorphic God, a fabulous monster the worship of which has ever prompted men to fanaticism and persecution, and has inflicted untold misery and dread upon the masses of mankind, as well as physical torture and death in hideous forms upon the many martyrs who have refused to bend the knee to this Gorgonean phantom of the beast-mind of man. Truly, where the worshipers of this image of the Beast predominate, the man whose brow and hand are unbranded by this superstition, who neither thinks nor acts in accordance with it, suffers ostracism if not virulent persecution.

Often-times, grass was more useful than gold. Man was more desirable than a beast. Chance was more seductive than knowledge, and eternal life was completely meaningless without love.

She knows I am a beast. She knows that I will be the one to rip her heart from her chest!

She moves like beauty, she whispers to us of wind and forest—and she tells us stories, such stories that we wake in the night, dreaming dreams of a life long past. she reminds us of what we used to be. She reminds us of what we could be.

... ongoing care for the soul rather than seek for a cure appreciates the mystery of human suffering and does not offer the illusion of a problem-free life. I sees every fall into ignorance and confusion as an opportunity to discover that the beast residing at the center of the labyrinth is also an angel. To approach this paradoxial point of tension where adjustment and abnormality meet is to move closer to the realization of our mystery-filled, star-born nature. It is a beast this thing that stirs in the core of our being, but it is also the star of our innermost nature. We have to care for this suffering with extreme reverence so that in our fear and anger at the beast, we do not overlock the star. ~Thomas Moore *Care of the Soul*

Morals are nothing but a civilized society’s attempt to tame some beast called man.

That society is becoming a pain in the neck. I need to get word to Mikhail that we did not stamp them out as we thought we had. They seem to be back and stronger than ever. Every thirty years or so they crop up to give us problems.” “Julian must have only discovered them quite recently or he would have told you about them when he was reporting in to you about me.” There was a bite to her voice. She was still annoyed that Gregori had had someone watching her. Even more than that, she was annoyed with herself for not sensing another of her kind. “Julian never exactly reported in to me,” Gregori said dryly. “He is not the kind of man to answer to anyone. Julian is like the wind, the wolves. Totally free. He goes his own way. He watched over you, but he did not send me reports. That is not his way.” “He sounds interesting,” Savannah murmured. Instantly Gregori could feel his muscles tighten. That black, nameless rage that made him so dangerous boiled in his gut. He would always live with the fear that he had stolen Savannah from another. That some other Carpathian male held the secret to her heart. That he had condemned another to death or, worse, to becoming the undead, because he had stolen Savannah. Since Gregori had manipulated the outcome of their joining, perhaps there was some other whose chemistry matched hers perfectly. His silver eyes were cold and lethal, small red flames leaping in their depths. “You do not need to find Savage interesting. I would never give you up, Savannah.” “Don’t be an idiot, Gregori,” she said impatiently. “As if I’d even want some other beast just out of the cave when I’ve almost got you trained.

Something deep inside of me speaks with the voice of the psycho: For who could ever love a beast?

The beast caged. Rather limiting for Mr Hyde.

…talking always feels like defending and I’m tired of asking for permission to exist.