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Suspense Quotes

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Suspense Quotes

“Quick! What aisle are the douches in? I've got three bitches at the beach cottage and they all stick to high heaven."... "You do carry Massengill, don't you? That's the best brand, according to my research." "Ah..." What kind of man researches douches? A man who goes to bed with three women... "Would you mind checking your inventory in the back? I'll need more." "I'm not allowed to leave the register, but I'll be happy to page our stock boy." Douche-man grunted and flipped the package around. "It's gonna take at least two boxes for Loa. She's big. Got wide hips. Skinny legs, though. Kinda like a twenty-gallon tank on toothpicks.”

“They had pulled me from the hemorrhaging, dying body of my mother and turned me over to the care of the man who was not my father. He had taken me home to their tiny apartment above the old hardware store and done what little he knew to take care of me. It took less than six weeks for him to realize his mistake. Maybe even less than six hours, but he never abandoned me. He clung to me as though I was the last remnant of some great and powerful love. And that gave me hope that maybe my mother was really something else and not just some girl who got knocked up by a guy whose name she didn’t even know. She was something special, someone worthy of a man’s loyalty and devotion. --Rocky Evans”

“A woman with nothing to lose is merely dangerous; a woman with everything to protect is a reckoning." Maria Monday, Symphony of Lies "Some inherit money. Others inherit secrets worth killing for." Maria Monday, Symphony of Lies "For some, gazing into the abyss fosters strength, while others are consumed by it." Maria Monday, Symphony of Lies”

“Every living soul in this universe should be given a chance at love – their personal shot at having the most powerful and mysterious thing that ever existed. You could love forever, or your love could burn short and bright for just a few moments in the history of time. But however you did it, I supposed the idea was to make it count; to create a story worthy of a new fairytale, a poem, or a new constellation that would wind itself into an infinite thread of light in your name. Maybe that was the whole point of love – to create an eternal story of your own.”

“I had the choice—I could once again pretend and recite the words that would turn me into a powerful king. I could recite the words to abolish the prison of my emptiness, to become young and immortal, to feel the lips of a queen on my lips, and to fall in love with Juliet day after day. All I had to do was recite the words written for me, and I would rule the empires of Europe and all its lands. But sadly, I know the inevitable truth—I can never recite those words again, because I don't know who I am.”

“The boy was there too, stumbling through the living room horde and passing out magic mushrooms from a paper bag. His eyeballs sparkled inside gaping, play-dough sockets while his limbs hung gaunt and exhausted from eight straight days of self-medicating fear. Another boy in a black tee pinched some mushroom flakes from his bag, nodded his thanks, and mouthed the word “bro” like blowing a man kiss.”

“Attorno a noi ci sono colori che prima non avevo mai notato. Il blu dei pavimenti. L’azzurro degli infissi. Il giallo ocra nelle ombre. Le sfumature viola sui soffitti, e dentro agli occhi della gente. Gli aloni verdi dei nostri destini. E le sbarre: all’improvviso sono dappertutto. Sulle porte, alle finestre, tra i nostri comuni pensieri. Il vecchio frenocomio non mi era mai sembrato tanto vivo, e presente, come da quando abbiamo ucciso il suo passato. Prima, gli echi delle sue storie erano molto più forti. Adesso, le nostre vi si sono sovrapposte. Difficile stabilire a chi appartengano le grida che si odono di notte. Mi chiedo se forse non siamo tutti connessi – noi, che restiamo, e coloro che hanno perso l’occasione per andare – nel nostro sentirci dimenticati da chi amiamo. Ma forse è solo quello che succede in ogni parte della terra. In fondo, siamo tutti prigionieri di qualcosa. Di una stanza. Di noi stessi. Non c’è peggior luogo di reclusione di un cuore abbandonato. E non c’è peggiore abbandono di quello di chi si abbandona da solo.”

“Da até pra impressionar, mas chega de pressionar! Deixe os seus problemas pra depois ja que a gente sempre tem nós dois. Nao vale a pena se enfrentar, Nos de uma chance de tentar. Não vale se enfeitar do velho e achar que tudo é um espelho... De que vale se enfeiar com o que veio e reclamar no anseio do que ja foi feio? Sopra um sambinha... Ou um enredo! É só pra nos dois mesmo...que medo!”

“1. “– No tengo ninguna prisa. Mi tren sale a última hora de la tarde. ¿Eso significaba que le regalaba todo ese tiempo? Julie, sin emitir ni una sola palabra, le sonrió; después desapareció por la puerta del salón para encaminarse hacia las escaleras… El tren de Luc partía esa tarde, pero el de ella acababa de llegar y tenía la certeza de que se subiría a pesar de no conocer su destino.”

“What do you want, MacGuffin, a duel?” “No.” Julian held out both hands, one palm flat, the other held over it in a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors. Two out of three.” Ty rolled his eyes and held out his fist, apparently willing to play. Julian hit his palm three times, and Ty kept time with his fist in the air. But when Julian threw a paper, Ty reached into his jacket with his other hand and pulled his gun, aiming it at Julian. “Ty!” Zane said in exasperation from the front seat. “Glock, paper, scissors. I win.” “You are an ass,” Julian muttered.”