Paranormal Quotes - Page 12

Get done with the damn sibling rivalry and let's get back with the task at hand here so we can figure out what we're going to do.

I'm not into werewolves, but holy crap is he a hottie. Totally gorgeous and built like a tank. I bet he's got one down to his---

You are mine. You are always going to be mine. It doesn't matter what came before, the only thing that matters is what is now and going forward. There will never be anyone else for you. Only me. Me.

There is the scent too. Wonder follows it; wonder about how a boy can smell like that when he probably has no idea. He smells like the woods in the winter or the rain when it first falls, or maybe it’s just the way he always smells and there is no way to define it.

It’s just snow,” Lesa said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not going to hurt you.”Kimmy smoothed her hands over her blond hair. “Sugar melts.”“Yeah, and shit floats.” Lesa took her seat, yanking out last night’s English homework.

There is new information.”“Are you going to share it?”“No.”Of course not. Because it would totally ruin his whole mysterious vibe. Can’t have that.

My brain was about two eggs past fried.

What are you most scared of, Caitlin? What I can do to you, or how I make you feel?

I don’t do one-night stands, Tammy. Not my style.”She sighed, sounding exasperated, but she was secretly pleased at his declaration. “I’m…the same way, only things haven’t worked out.”“I understand.” He continued to stroke her hair with one hand, his other arm wrapped around her, holding her to him and showing possessiveness in an affectionate way.She studied him for a moment and saw the sincerity in his expression, then sighed again. “Fine. Then we’re dating now. All right?”He gave her the warmest smile. “You’ve got it.

I am not capable of love. - Felix

Tonight was about fathers. Vince was going to kill hers for murdering his.

I flinched when his hands lifted, although it was more of a reaction to everything that had been happening to me, not necessarily because he was Death. He stilled. “You’re sad,” he said. “Let me help you.” “There isn’t anything you can do.” “I can comfort you.

So if I asked you to wear my skirt and juggle my high heels, you would?” I joked.I could only see Andrew's face in profile, but a grin overtook his earlier grim expression, and he laughed. “I draw the line at wearing women’s clothing.”“Are you sure?” I whispered seductively, nibbling on his earlobe.“That’s cheating,” he said, his breath hitching.I kissed down his neck. “If all else fails, I’ll never rule out using my womanly wiles.”“I refuse to be used as a pawn by my devious lover,” he countered, grinning.I abruptly pulled away from him. “Ah, well, it never hurts to try.

If history has shown anything, it is that where there is a God, there is an institution trying to lock up that God in its lifeless structure of orthodoxy, in order to have authority over people and sell tickets to the Kingdom of that God. Thus emerged all the pompous lies about the extraterrestrial Kingdom of God or Heaven.

Oh heaven and hell, stop with the tears. Given the day Sarah had just had, the tears were logical. But watching her face crumple, hearing the gut-deep harsh sobs, filled Rukh with an irrational need to pull her into his arms, wrap her in a hug.As soon as the urge had gelled into conscious thought, his essence hardened into visibility and his arms slid up around her shivering, wet body.Sarah’s eyes popped open and she staggered back with a yell.His arms tightened around her, steadying her, keeping her close. Well, shit. At least, she’d stoppedcrying.Fear-bright green eyes stared at him instead.Given he was an assassin, sent to kill her, her response was natural, even intelligent. Yet, bitterness churned in his gut at the thought of her fearing him. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”“Am I hallucinating?” Her question came out as a croak.“Yes, yes you are.” That seemed a much better answer than the truth.She pinned him with her dark, direct gaze. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. A fantasy?”“Yes.” He didn’t dare move.“Then why are you still wearing clothes?

Why did so many teenagers fall for Stanley Horowitz’s tricks?”“These were impressionable teenagers,” Nick explained. “Many of them were devoted fans of romantic Vampyre stories. They over-romanticized what it means to be a Vampyre, and that gave Stanley a way to manipulate th

And to think of all colors in the world, blood chose to be red." ~ The Fray Theory

Ella squeezed, wringing a groan from his throat that echoed the torments of the damned. Usually, though, the damned didn't lean into the torment in a silent entreaty for more. Or so she assumed. She didn't think hell was likely to be kinky.

Number me the things that are not yet come- gather me together the dross that are scattered abroad- make me the flowers green again that are withered- Open me the places that are closed, and bring me forth the winds that in them are shut up- shew me the image of a voice: and then I will declare to thee the thing that thou labor to know.

Kissing her wasn't just a kiss. It was a full-body, mid-altering experience.

You scared the crap out of me,” I shove his bare chest with a growl. “Wasthat you at the front door?”“Ya think?” He fires back with a raise of his eyebrows, taking hold of my armagain, as he practically drags me back toward the front entry.“Did it occur to you to say something?” I shoot back with a scowl. “I thoughtyou were some kind of psychopath.” My frown deepens, as I consider whether he might in fact be a psychopath.

I look for you in every life, but I don't always find you. And sometimes I find you too late.

I could see her will leaving and death seeping through her skin to skewer her soul.

Too long, much too long.

Dragos never lifted his head from his task. He said in a quiet voice, "Tell me you're in control, and I will believe you..."tStraightening his shoulders, Liam replied steadily, "I'm in control.

Is he evil?" the dog asked, an eager gleam in his wide brown eyes. "If he's evil, I'd be happy to eat him for you.

Things remain paranormal, as long as we scientists don't reveal the underlying physical processes.

Life's nycer when it's Naughtie!

Although, in my defense, a nonblinking eye rape was rarely the kind of thing you just eased into.

V settled back against the pillows and measured the hard line of her chin."Take off your coat.""Excuse me?""Take it off.""No.""I want it off.""Then I suggest you hold your breath. Won't affect me in the slightest, but at least the suffocation will help pass the time for you.

You look like a Greek God, not to attract me per say, but to be attractive to all. It’s part of your power, your persuasive way. It’s also part of the evil, to make it harder for you to remain good. Evil doesn’t just come in the form of a monster, it comes in the form of a beautiful woman, a temptress if you will, in the form of sin. With your incredible good looks, women will be more drawn to you, which could tempt you to evil’s sin; a curse, as well as a gift.

I will liken my judgment unto a ring: like as there is no slackness of the last, even so there is no swiftness of the first.

Down every hall is a gruesome tangle of impossible creatures, and every one of them is split open or strung with barbs or dragging their insides after them, flailing along on shattered limbs or shredded wings or blasted stumps. I’ve got the pistol, half a can of spray and a handful of useless shotgun slugs.I’m dead.

And in the absence of even a hint of an exchange, Joaquin spun around and lunged at Ross, grabbed him by the throat, and knocked him down. With dry, brittle leaves and debris suddenly thrust upward, the two were covered in a dark, hazy hell as they pursued a violent struggle for what seemed like an eternity. As he gained his footing, Ross shot back with a punch to Joaquin’s head followed by several body punches. Joaquin stumbled backward and fell giving Ross those precious, few seconds required for escape.

As it so happens, I like your mouth.""It doesn't -- ""Challenge me?" He set the bottle down and moved to the end of the bed. "An outspoken woman makes the world a livable place. You have fire in you, and I would never put that out.

And Esme remembered in a rush--the wolfsong, the haunting, lyrical spirals of it in the dawn quiet and the feeling of euphoria that had attended it. Even in recollection the howling uplifted her like the crescendo at the end of a symphony and made her heartbeat quicken.

We were arrogant and naive, thinking we knew what we felt then was love. Love can be a cheap emotion, lightly given, thought it didn´t seem so to me at the time. Looking back, I know we were only filling in the holes in our soles, the way the tide rushes sand to fill in the crevices of a rocky shore. We-or maybe it was just I-bandaged our needswith what we declared was love. But, eventually, the tide draws out what it has swept in.

Small Acts of Kindness are Priceless

She was tasked with guarding the doorway to the Otherworld, keeping the balance of nature (as much as anyone could in these modern times), and occasionally, helping a worthy seeker.

Shadows of the world made shadows of the heart much deeper.

Pray to whatever you believe in that they don't send the snakes.

Plus, I happened to be a history nerd. Why else would I be interested in a guy born in the year 519?

IT IS SAID that time is unrelated to everything else. It goes on and on, unnoticing of our actions, our falls, our triumphs. Who’s to care then, if time does not remember us? It flies by, fleeting, inattentive and disinterested in any occupants of this earth. What are we, then, if time thinks so little of everyone it passes? Time is truly apathetic to the many to whom a little empathy would mean so much.~April~ Disarming Reign of Blood

Change your mind and change your whole life experience.

I guess I should thank you for totally making my morning. It’s not every day a stranger notices my perspiration level.- Dr. Jeri Asher (BLACK MARIAH - A Calling)

...The next time I opened my eyes, I was in the morgue.This, all by itself, is enough to really ruin your day.I was lying on the examining table, and Butters, complete with his surgical gown and his tray of autopsy instruments, stood over me.'I'm not dead!' I sputtered. 'I'm not dead!'- Harry Dresden, Death Masks, Jim Butcher

And the more he gazed at her, the more he felt a twinge of something he couldn’t quite describe, an unknown surge that bubbled inside him from the first moment he’d caught sight of her, and it wouldn’t release him.

My first thought was that a tornado had somehow picked me up and carried me off, like in the Wizard of Oz. No old witches pedaled by, and I didn't see any flying farm animals or chicken coops, and after a few agonizing minutes, I fell deep into unconsciousness again.

He wondered what she would taste of — fantasized about how gunpowder and scorched earth would weigh on his tongue.

He lowered his head until his lips hovered centimeters above hers. This was the moment he craved. This heated moment – each of them lingering, waiting, wanting. He loved the excitement of the build-up almost as much as the conquest itself. As he’d told her many times, the greater the anticipation, the sweeter the reward.

We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.

She fished a gum wrapper and pen from her bag and wrote down her number. "I'd like to stay friends with you and Jason. That's my cell number. You can call me any time you want, except at two-thirty-six in the morning."tAlice cocked her head. "How come I can't call you at two-thirty-six/"t"I need that minute to sleep," Jessica said, smiling.

Ducks, embrace me as your king!"--James Herondale.

...it’s my job to lead you to success, and, if you fail, it’s because I failed, not you.’” (Spoken by Bracke, told by Eric)

Because I could feel you, I was drowning with you.

The greatest futility! says the congregator, "The greatest futility! Everything is futile!" What does a person gain from all his hard work- At which he toils under the sun? A generation goes and another cometh forth, but the earth remains the same.

This thought, this truth, it highlighted the distance between us. We lived in different timeframes. A reminder that, even right now, we didn't share the same moments. We could never truly be together.

There is a unique bond between the land and the people in the Crescent City. Everyone here came from somewhere else, the muddy brown current of life prying them loose from their homeland and sweeping them downstream, bumping and scraping, until they got caught by the horseshoe bend that is New Orleans. Not so much as a single pebble ‘came’ from New Orleans, any more than any of the people did. Every grain of sand, every rock, every drip of brown mud, and every single person walking, living and loving in the city is a refugee from somewhere else. But they made something unique, the people and the land, when they came together in that cohesive, magnetic, magical spot; this sediment of society made something that is not French, not Spanish, and incontrovertibly not American.

That day and night, the bleeding and the screaming, had knocked something askew for Esme, like a picture swinging crooked on a wall. She loved the life she lived with her mother. It was beautiful. It was, she sometimes thought, a sweet emulation of the fairy tales they cherished in their lovely, gold-edged books. They sewed their own clothes from bolts of velvet and silk, ate all their meals as picnics, indoors or out, and danced on the rooftop, cutting passageways through the fog with their bodies. They embroidered tapestries of their own design, wove endless melodies on their violins, charted the course of the moon each month, and went to the theater and the ballet as often as they liked--every night last week to see Swan Lake again and again. Esme herself could dance like a faerie, climb trees like a squirrel, and sit so still in the park that birds would come to perch on her. Her mother had taught her all that, and for years it had been enough. But she wasn't a little girl anymore, and she had begun to catch hints and glints of another world outside her pretty little life, one filled with spice and poetry and strangers.

I have a simple philosophy: Fill what's empty. Empty what's full. Scratch where it itches." by Alice Roosevelt Longworth