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Scream Quotes

Browse 801 quotes about Scream.

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Scream Quotes

“The desperate piercing scream of horror echoed far above the sharpened tops of the trees wrapped in thin obsidian-transparent mist, and I startled jerkily, tripping again, and almost collapsed onto the cold moist ground.”

RomanceMysteryColdHorrorDespairRomanticYoung AdultMysteriousSuspenseDesperateScreamTransparentIntroductionGothicMistFirstColdnessGothFarGroundEchoGothic RomanceObsidianAboveIntroWhat To ReadIntroductory
Book:Nightmarish Sacrifice
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“I can still hear the screams. They wake me in the night. Terrible, gut wrenching, painful screams; screams that can only come from the deepest and darkest recesses of the mind. These were not screams of pain. These were screams of years of sorrow and despair. These were screams that made your skin crawl. These were the worst screams I have ever heard. I cannot get them out of my head. Perhaps, they will be with me forever. I shouldn't be so lucky.”

SorrowDespairScreamJamie SchoffmanNot All Out Of Love
Book:Not All Out of Love
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“Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated the silent screams continue internally heard only by the one held captive.”

PainLiesTraumaPersonal DevelopmentScreamInner SelfChildhood TraumaInner HealingHealing The Emotional SelfLove HealsCaptiveSilencedInvalidationSilent Pain
Book:Emerging With Wings: A True Story of Lies, Pain, And The LOVE that Heals
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“The monster inside him was finally silent. The sword in his hand spoke a thousand stories, while hundreds of voices screamed feebly through the blood dripping from it. The blade of the sword shined like an evening sky and sang a tale of the darkest revenge.”

StoriesTimeDarkSilenceBloodRevengeScreamMonsterSwordTale
Book:The Abandoned Paradise: Unraveling the beauty of untouched thoughts and dreams
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“Art can blow us out of our pigeon hole. In deafness it may shout or scream, in blindness it may arrest our attention, in numbness it may shake up our mind. If we don’t sense anything at all and take everything for granted, art can kick us in the ass, give a conscience and make us aware. ("When is Art?")”

MindArtAttentionConscienceBlowAssScreamBlindnessSenseNumbnessAwareDeafnessArrestShoutKickTake For GrantedShake UpNothing At AllPigeon Hole
Author:Erik Pevernagie
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“You told me it was like the fight for me is all you’ve ever known. I think about that a lot and someplace inside me, some secret place that I can only look at for a little bit at a time, I know you’re right. I know this because I’ve been fighting for you to come home. I’ve been screaming and dying and praying for you to come home, and it’s taken so long, but now it’s like you never left, and I can’t seem to fit that together in my mind.”

HomeFightingReturnScream
Book:Bear, Otter, and the Kid
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“I Feel like a prison holding myself, bounded by the judgements of people I care and chained by the rules of the society I live in. If I would let the person who speaks inside me out, he would tell you a different story than what you have seen all these years. Sometimes I see myself crying, screaming and trying to tear myself into pieces when I stand in front of the mirror so that I could finally be free from myself. But the demons I have created inside me to guard beats me down and laughs at me, watching me bleed.”

CarePrisonScreamFreeDemonsChainedWatchCageHoldBeatGuardBleed
Author:Akshay Vasu
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“THE SILENT PEOPLE Some people are so rude, Living their lives with no concern for others, Or possibly just intent on pissing other people off- Annoying everyone around them. The silent people- Want to kill them- And drive forks into their skulls- Create weapons of extreme torture- And scream from the top of their lungs- "SHUT UP." But words are not spoken- And attention is not given. Though annoyance is apparent, The annoying keep on living.”

PoetryAttentionPoemLivingTortureScreamAnnoyingShut UpRudeKillSkullsLiving Life To The FullestForksRudenessExtremeSpoken
Book:Uninhibited From Lust To Love
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“The tension has worn us out. It is a deadly tension that feels as if a jagged knife blade is being scraped along the spine. Our legs won't function, our hands are trembling and our bodies are like thin membranes stretched over barely repressed madness, holding in what would otherwise be an unrestrained outburst of endless scream.s. We have no flesh, no muscle now”

LifeMindWarBodyDeathFearHorrorMadnessMadSoldierScreamHorror Of WarWorld War
Book:All quiet on the western front
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“It's not the dead even. They're gone. Nothing you can do about that. It's what's left behind - the echo. These woods you're walking through. There are some old timers who think a sound echoes here forever. Makes sense when you think about it. That Billingham kid. I'm sure he screamed. He screams, it echoes, just bounces back and forth, the sound getting smaller and smaller, but never entirely disappearing. Like a part of his is still calling out, even now.”

DeathScreamMurders
Book:The Woods
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“Les images ont des insinuations diaboliques. Mes parents ont inconsidérément punaisé des reproductions arrachées à des pages de magazine, sans autre souci de présentation, de deux tableaux assez célèbres : la terrasse de café d'une nuit d'été à Arles, par Van Gogh, qui s'est muée en imae presque abstraite de la chaleur molle, de la déliquescence, de la vacance, de l'été (une préfiguration aussi du plaisir que mon corps adulte pourrait me faire connaître), et Le Cri de Munch, qui s'est mué, lente défiguration du personnage déjà défiguré, en image de la peur et de la mort.”

DeathChildhoodPaintingScreamMunch
Book:My Parents
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“Roscoe had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. He awoke to find persistent itching on his stomach. He scratched it through his T-shirt. He went back to sleep. But dreams kept him from sleeping soundly. That and the itching. He woke again and felt the itchy spot. There was a lump there. Like a swelling. And when he held still and pressed his fingers against the spot he could feel something moving under the skin. The small room was suddenly very cold. Roscoe shivered. He went to the window hoping for light. There was a moon but the light was faint. Roscoe pulled his shirt over his head. He looked down at the spot on his stomach. It was moving. The flesh itself. He could feel it under his fingertips. Like something poking back at him. But he couldn’t feel it from the inside, couldn’t feel it in his stomach. And he realized that his entire body was numb. He could feel with his fingertips but not the skin of his stomach— The skin split! “Ahhhh!” He was touching it as it split, and he shrieked in terror and something pushed its way out through a bloodless hole. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, no no no no!” Roscoe screamed and leaped for the door. His hand clawed at the knob as he babbled and wept and the door was locked, locked, oh, God, no, they had locked him in. He banged at the door, but it was the middle of the night. Who would hear him in the empty town hall? “Hey! Hey! Is anyone there? Help me. Help me. Please, please, someone help me!” He banged and the thing in his belly stuck out half an inch. He was scared to look at it. But he did and he screamed again because it was a mouth now, a gnashing insect mouth full of parts like no normal mouth. Hooked, wicked mandibles clicked. It was inside him, chewing its way out. Hatching from him. “Help me, help me, don’t leave me here like this!” But who would hear him? Sinder? No. Not anymore. That was over. All over. And he was alone and friendless. No one even to hear as he screamed and begged. The window. He grabbed the pillow from his bed and pushed it against the glass and then punched it hard. The pane shattered. He took off his shoe and smashed at the starred glass until most of it fell tinkling to the street below. Then he screamed for help. Screamed into the Perdido Beach night air. No answer. “Help me! Please, please, oh, God, please help me! You can’t just leave me locked up!” But still, no answer. Fear took hold of him, deep crazy-making fear. No. No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. He hadn’t done anything to hurt anyone, he hadn’t done anything awful. Why? Why was this happening to him? Roscoe fell to his knees and begged God. God, please, no, no, no, I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t brave or strong but I wasn’t bad, either. Not like this, please, God, no no no, not like this. Roscoe felt an itching in the middle of his back. He sat down and cried.”

EatingHelp MeScreamPanicCriedBugsParasitesNoBeggedRoscoe
Book:Plague
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