Quotessence
Home / Topics / Killed Quotes

Killed Quotes

Browse 65 quotes about Killed.

Killed Quotes

“Some people’s self-esteem was secretly improved when they discovered that their then-lovers had killed themselves over them.”

“Most people do not mind dying, as long as that does not happen today.”

“Think about this: You don't know when these people are going to die. They could get into a car today and be killed on the way home. Did they ever hear about Jesus? God has put you in their lives to be His ambassador. You're His megaphone, through which He wants to call out to them to come to Him and be saved.”

“Humility is a virtue of the heavenly, not arrogance. Are we the most superior beast on earth? No, not in strength and not in intelligence. It is very arrogant to assume that we are the most intelligent species when we keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Both rats and monkeys have been shown to learn from error, yet we have not. More people have died in the name of religion than any other cause on earth. Is massacring God’s creations really serving God – or the devil? And what father would want to see his children constantly divided and fighting? What God would allow a single human life to be sacrificed for monetary gain? Again, the Creator or the devil?”

“Some people would have killed themselves and/or someone else if they were single; and some people would not have done that.”

“What the hell was that?” he asked no-one in particular. “Did they ram us?” “Uh – negative, sir.” Marnetti offered, reading an instrumental assessment from his display, “It seems we were hit by some kind of pulse wave generated by their jump.” “Their jump? – You mean by arriving they nearly killed us?” Marnetti nodded, continuing, “Range 0.5 kilometers, Captain. Holding steady. No recognized weapons activity.” “Damage report.” He ordered, feeling his way back into his seat, eyes glued to the viewscreen. “Shield 2 down, 1 is buckling.” Pluddeman choked. “Power stable, all systems holding steady,” Marnetti added, now rubbing some bruises. “Any communications?” “Nothing, sir. Static on all frequencies.” “What are they doing?” “Nothing, sir. Waiting maybe.” “Waiting, my ass!” Dayne barked. “They must be sizing us up!”

“Not everyone who has killed themselves because they were HIV positive would have been killed by AIDS.”

“promise me, Sam: whatever it takes to win, whatever it takes to survive.” “Astrid—” Suddenly she grabbed his face with one hand and squeezed too hard. “You listen to me. I’m not losing you because you played fair. You’re not getting killed. You’re not dying. This isn’t some doomed last mission. Do you understand me? This does not end with me crying and missing you every day for the rest of my life. This ends with us walking out of this nightmare together. You and me, Sam.”

“Unfortunately, you are far more likely to be harmed or die prematurely as a direct result of modern society than you are from any form of terrorism.”

“... [t]he air was thinning out, as if from too much wear, not when Scout was killed but two weeks later--even before Scout's body had been shipped--when they were informed that Easter was dead too. Babies. One nineteen, the other twenty-one. How proud she was when they enlisted. She had actively encouraged them to do so. Their father had served in the forties. Uncles too. Jeff Fleetwood was back from Vietnam and none the worse. And although he did seem a little shook up, Menus Jury got back alive. Like a fool, she believed her sons would be safe. Safer than anywhere in Oklahoma outside Ruby. Safer in the army than in Chicago, where Easter wanted to go. Safer than Birmingham, than Montgomery, Selma, than Watts. Safer than Money, Mississippi, in 1955 and Jackson, Mississippi, in 1963. Safer than Newark. She had thought war was safer than any city in the United States. Now she had four unopened letters mailed in 1968 and delivered to the Demby post office four days after she buried the last of her sons. She had never been able to open them. Both had been home on furlough that Thanksgiving, 1968. Seven months after King's murder, and Soane had sobbed like the redeemed to see her boys alive. Her sweet colored boys unshot, unlynched, unmolested, unimprisoned.”

“She’s stronger than you are, Sam. It’s like fighting yourself and Caine and Jack and Dekka, all at once.” “Yeah.” “Talk to Astrid about it.” “I already talked to Astrid.” “And she’s okay with a suicide mission? Because I’m not. You go out there, go to win, huh? Don’t go out there thinking you’re doing us a favor by getting killed.” Sam sighed. “It’s the endgame, my friend.” “Sam . . .,” Edilio began, but that was all he had, that one word, that one-word plea for a different solution. “Take care of Astrid for me. Try to keep her safe and don’t let her follow me.”

“Hunter’s dead,” Taylor said without preamble. “It was these . . . these things. They came crawling up out of him and were eating him, oh God, I mean, it was like . . . I mean he was crying and Dekka prayed with him and he tried to fry his own brain just like he did with Harry only I guess it didn’t work, I guess he couldn’t do it, so Sam . . .” She swallowed. “Anyone have some water?” “What about Sam?” Astrid demanded. “He did it for him. Sam. I mean, he . . . Hunter was, you know . . . so Sam.” She pantomimed raising her hands, like Sam, like he would do when using his power. Astrid closed her eyes and crossed herself. “Rest in peace,” Edilio said and crossed himself as well. “Sam burned the boy?” Howard asked. Then, bitterly sarcastic said, “Yeah, you all pray to Jesus. Because Jesus is really providing a lot of help here. Sounds to me like Sam was the one doing what had to be done.”

“He could have killed me for the blunder— which really wasn’t my fault— but I was lucky , and he gave me another chance. The two officers who questioned him were also incredibly lucky for not having had any idea who it was they’d been questioning.”

“The only way to truly help most drug addicts and most alcoholics is to—instead of them—change reality.”

“People die from checkmate..., they run and run they are always the figure king, they run and run one of their paths once it's blocked they run and run keep it again a path is blocked they run in this place again and again.... with the time the path goes small and small one moment you have one path and then a other figure comes and it has been blocked by it... so you are killed by this you can't protect yourself. It's the best attack ever made, it's called checkmate!”

“How bad was it?' I asked quietly. 'You saw your room. He trashed it, the study, his bedroom. He- he killed the sentries who'd been on guard. After he got the last bit of information from them. He executed them in front of everyone in the manor.' My blood chilled. 'You didn't stop him.' 'I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn't listen. He couldn't listen.' 'The sentries didn't try to stop him, either?' 'They didn't dare, Feyre, he's a High Lord. He's a different breed.”

“Stray voltage/current/frequency is the most serious form of exposure. Electrocution kills very few people per year. Stray voltage/current/frequency exposure is suspected to be making people sick in the millions!”

“He overheard the director talking to one of the cameramen. The cameraman was explaining that he couldn’t get a good long shot on the exterior because someone had set up a fake graveyard right in the plaza. “Kids just playing around, I guess, but it’s morbid; we’ll have to get rid of it, maybe bring in some sod to—” “No,” Albert said. “We’re almost ready for you,” the director assured him. “That’s not a fake graveyard. Those aren’t fake graves. No one was playing around.” “You’re saying those . . . those are actually . . .” “What do you think happened here?” Albert asked in a soft voice. “What do you think this was?” Absurdly, embarrassingly, he had started to cry. “Those are kids buried there. Some of them were torn apart, you know. By coyotes. By . . . by bad people. Shot. Crushed. Like that. Some of those kids in the ground there couldn’t take it, the hunger and the fear . . . some of those kids out there had to be cut down from the ropes they used to hang themselves. Early on, when we still had any animals? I had a crew go out and hunt down cats. Cats and dogs and rats. Kill them. Other kids to skin them . . . cook them up.” There were a dozen crew people in the McDonald’s. None spoke or moved. Albert brushed away tears and sighed. “Yeah. So don’t mess with the graves. Okay? Other than that, we’re good to go.”

“I guess he was right; I’m just a scorpion without wings, God created me this way, no wings, just a poisonous sting, The one I loved knew my true nature She knew I could sting her heart, and poisoned her soul, My lover knew me well, she knew my truth, She could see my poisonous soul, My ego bowed to her beauty, always ready to strike She knew my true nature, she saw the scorpion, She saw the venom in heart, she loved me still, I struck her heart multiple times, I poisoned her soul with my sting, I guess he was right; I’m just a scorpion without wings She knew me well; she saw the lethal sting, She saw her wounded heart, she loved me still She you loved the scorpion to the end, She fell in love, and now she’s dead, The scorpion cries, in agony, He wishes he wasn’t a venomous beast, The scorpion suffers; he misses his loved one, The one he killed, the one he stung, The one who loved him to the end”