Zombie Quotes - Page 2

‘There’s no time for right or wrong,’ I said.

There was no heaven here. Eternal life meant waking up as a putrid corpse.

There’s nothing worse than delivering bad news to women. I hoped I wouldn’t get good at it.

I was terribly, painfully present in the world, and so far removed from it.

It’s not about winning, it’s about doing what’s right. And yes, we will do what’s right.

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

Then she was there in the doorway of the ambulance at his feet. She jumped up like a lion, then stood up on two feet like a human. Her hair was thick and full. She had a mouthful of giant teeth. He could see four pronounced canines in the front and strong claws where her fingernails had been. Her strong body was shriveled and emaciated with her ribs and hip bones sticking out prominently like a concentration camp victim. Her stench was overpowering, like a deer carcass left to rot on the side of the road.

I heard them tearing at it. It was the sound of mortality.

A country where people are afraid of even their own shadows is surely a country of dictatorship! In such vile countries there are two groups of people: The zombies, the living-dead who serve the dictator and the rest, the clever and honourable people who fight for their freedom!

Albert died in an unfortunate accident sometime ago and was raised as a zombie by his amateur necromancer friend, Neil. Bubba was a new friend we had acquired in Vegas when helping him gain back the freedom he had previously gambled away. The fourth member of our group, a government agent and my girlfriend named Krystal, was out of town for work this week, thus I was conducting my first weekly scrabble tournament with just the three of us. Which leaves only me to be accounted for in the explanation. My name. which I hope you know by now. is Frederick Frankford Fletcher and I am a vampire, though still not the type that inspires swooning or terror.

Her voice was small and distant, like she’d already left the room.

No amount of wavy blond hair nor evenings spent with her plump lips applying just the right amount of pressure to his various pleasure points could make up for the rotting carcass of a soul that resided beneath all that beauty.

I thought if I loved you enough I could change you. I was so stupid.

No, not really. But …” Okay, I couldn’t help but gloat a little. “She likes me.”Samedi didn’t even look at me. “Well of course, you’ve had that bloody uniform on all day. I was half ready to tell you how much I liked you.

The only thing that will ever be real, is this moment,' I turned to the statue, 'when you made me feel alive, when you made me feel real, when I felt like you really love me. Now? I'm just your monster, Frankie. I will always be a monster.

He is about as well-put-together and focused as a zombie at a tractor pull.

The pretty ones are usually unhappy. They expect everyone to be enamored of their beauty. How can a person be content when their happiness lies in someone else's hands, ready to be crushed at any moment? Ordinary-looking people are far superior, because they are forced to actually work hard to achieve their goals, instead of expecting people to fall all over themselves to help them.

For an instant I saw before me the young girl this used to be.

I had watched him single handedly rip the head off a zombie as he had simultaneously prayed for its soul. When you witness a man do something like that, it changes your perception of them.

... she wore a masterpiece smile with smudges of paint and graphite across her cheek, and her eyes were a Jackson Pollock painting.

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.

This place is Hell’s waiting room.

In you, she saw hope.”“You mean she saw his next meal.

Black Friday – (AKA Zombie Apocalypse)Is an event of subset half-dead human like beings confronted with ravenous bloodthirsty monsters preparing to pummel down the doors mid-afternoon on Thanksgiving Day.

I killed a couple of people,” Scooter said. “Wanna play cards?

Every single person is a fool, insane, a failure, or a bad person to at least ten people.

The people inside the gym didn’t stand a dead drunk’s chance.

Because zombies can’t go out into the sun, most of them tend to be afraid of anything that can go into the sun and live to tell the tale.

We’re trying to rebuild society, not plunge it back into chaos.” – character quote

A riverless silence made the air heavy.

This was a normal town once, and we were normal people. Most of us worked at the plastics factory on the outskirts of town. Then one day there was an accident... something escaped from the factory, a yellow gas. It floated over the town so fast that we didn't see it, didn't realize... and then it was too late, and Dark Falls wasn't a normal town anymore.

Then there’s the kind of zombie I’ve become now: the one who has lost everything—his brain, his heart, his light, his direction. He wanders the world, bumping into this, tripping over that, but keeps going and going. That is life after death.

Son of a Merryweather, he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

You know what would be awesome? . . . If I could have a machete.

That's old world stuff. It's the ZA now.

We live, if we still do live, in a Sea of Chaos, out of which any fucking monster can evolve.

I turned to her, my whole body hard with tiredness and regret.

Erik wondered if they saw the irony of such a tiny complex expecting to find the cure from the very lives they minimized in comparison to the whole. If such small, little lives mattered not, how could they believe anything they did would matter?

If you're not learning how to live off the land, then you're only learning how to survive in the short-term. (During a conversation with someone in regards to surviving a zombie apocalypse, 2017)

I need not adapt in certain ways. I am in fact but a visitor to this world, an ephemeral gasp within its long, tired history, and, before anything else, a follower of Christ. By this alone I have the power not to shuffle away from the Faith, the power to break loose from these marching-shackles of ongoing cultural and political pretense.

Even now I can’t describe the fear that contaminated my blood like black ink.

Feelings of any kind are not known to the walking dead. Every form of psychological warfare, from attempts at enraging the undead to provoking pity have all met with disaster. Joy, sadness, confidence, anxiety, love, hatred, fear—all of these feelings and thousands more that make up the human “heart” are as useless to the living dead as the organ of the same name. Who knows if this is humanity’s greatest weakness or strength? The debate continues, and probably will forever.

‘Can’t you see what they are?’ I said. ‘They’re all dead.’

To me, the best zombie movies aren’t the splatter fests of gore and violence with goofy characters and tongue in cheek antics. Good zombie movies show us how messed up we are, they make us question our station in society… and our society’s station in the world. They show us gore and violence and all that cool stuff too… but there’s always an undercurrent of social commentary and thoughtfulness.

While horror may make us squirm or quake, it will not make us cry at the pity of things. The vampire may symbolize our horror of both life and death, but none of us has ever been uprooted by a symbol. The zombie may conceptualize our sickness of the flesh and its appetites, but no one has ever been sickened to death by a concept.

You can’t get the blood out.

When approaching a prospective human, first ask them what their name is. * If it replies "Brains," blow its fucking head off. * If it replies "Brian," ask it again, as you may have encountered a zombie with a speech impediment, or a zombie that was mildly retarded in life. * Keep in mind that it is entirely possible that you did encounter a human named "Brian.

Lionel was filled with awful remorse. He asked where had Thomas been last seen, and the boy told him he was headed for the church. Lionel nodded and went home to fetch his shotgun. Throughout the crisis he had done no violence, preferring to preach the sanity of pacifism to the flock. This was different. This was a requirement of the father to the son. He prayed over the shotgun while Darla wailed with the children in the living room. He got in his truck and drove to the church. -- From "The South Fork Penance

And suddenly he thought, I'm the abnormal one now. Normalcy was a majority concept, the standard of many and not the standard of just one man.

I'd rather die while I'm living than live while I'm dead.

I was a spectator who had gotten free admission to a freak show.

Perhaps that's a smile on Delia's face-but Delia's half skull turns every expression into a leer. She says, "Your uncle had a talent, kid. He made families wherever he went.

People talk about survival. What they mean is killing the other guy.

I’m not a bad person.

They all call me "Excuse me," even though my nametag clearly says "Jordan." It's like people don't actually exist while they're working. Workers are just tools who aren't supposed to have feelings or personalities. You don't become human until your shift is over. Until then, we're all just zombies. We're dead to the world: infected people who need to be avoided, unless, of course, someone needs to know where the paintbrushes are located.

Most people don't believe something can happen until it already has. That's not stupidity or weakness, that's just human nature.

Returning my voice to a conversational level, I called back, “Nora, I’m notattempting to embarrass you or single you out. I know you’re capable. But stay behind Chas, okay? You die, you d i e permanently, and for various reasons that we’ve already gotten angsty about together, I don’t want that to happen.”“Okay, okay,” she sighed.“Angsty?” Chas asked. “Ooh! Later, details!”“Yes, later.” With that, I waved the team forward.

If you can't beat em. Become as crazy as a fuckin' loon and enjoy the ride.

They made a major mistake," he blurted out, "the dumb bastards, when they didn't start by killing you first.""Benjamin Thomas Parish, that was the sweetest and most bizarre compliment anyone's ever given me."I kissed him on the cheek. He kissed me on the mouth."You know," I whispered, "a year ago, I would have sold my soul for that."He shook his head. "Not worth it." And, for one-ten thousandth of a second, all of it fell away, the despair and grief and anger and pain and hunger, and the old Ben Parish rose from the dead. The eyes that impaled. The smile that slayed. In another moment, he would fade, slide back into the new Ben, the one called Zombie, and I understood something I hadn't before: He was dead, the object of my schoolgirl desires, just as the schoolgirl who desired him was dead.

Nobody knew exactly how the zombification process worked, and there were as many different strains as theories.