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Thriller Novels Quotes

Browse 141 quotes about Thriller Novels.

Thriller Novels Quotes

“We were in the middle of a three car caravan accompanied by Jim Carlisle, a career diplomat and the perfect Charge’ de Affaires. His manner was formal but always with a practiced smile to make his counterparts feel at ease. He sat in the jump seat in front of Owen, Alex and I sat together in the back near the double cargo doors guarding the luggage. The driver was Pakistani as was the security guard on the passenger side. The cars were crossing a bridge when it happened. First the blinding flash, then the delayed sound, it was deafening with the unmistakable smell of high explosives. The Ford Expedition in front erupted in a mushroom cloud of smoke and fire as it leaped off the road and settled back in a black pile of melting plastic, glass and metal. Our driver slammed on the brakes, ramming the gear into reverse while twisting his body around for a better view out the rear door windows. It was to late, the car behind us had met the same fate, we were bookended by smoking heaps of scrap metal as the masked bombers, five of them, surrounded our SUV. This was a professional hit team, their leader was calm, he directed the others with chilling efficiency. They wore black ski masks, bullet proof vests and ear phone sets, only the leader spoke, the others took orders. The shortest one had a knapsack, he turned his back to another who unzipped it and removed the gray matter, it looked like putty, he slapped it hard against the double rear doors. These would be the most vulnerable, they locked together rather than to the structural integrity of the vehicle. Both doors exploded out and away from the car dangling precariously on their hinges. The short one jumped in first, throwing the luggage out and scrambling towards us as our security guard leveled his government issue Glock-45, he hesitated to long, the red dot sighting device from the backup shooter was in the center of his forehead. The bone and brain fragment from the melon sized exit wound in the back of his head splattered against the windshield. The driver went for the concealed weapon under the front seat but thought better of it as the bombers surrounded the vehicle. Outside the driver side window, the leader hit the bullet proof glass with the butt of his matt black automatic, he wanted the doors opened, the driver had already hit the lock release.”

“My eyes are wide open, but I see nothing but darkness. My heart races and my breaths come fast as I try to understand what just happened. But I am trying to make sense of something incomprehensible. All I know is that this is no accident. Someone has trapped me here. They have locked me in a place where no one can hear me scream. It will be a miracle if I make it out of here alive. I am now at the mercy of a serial killer.”

“Appreciating yourself is not egocentrism, it is a mindset of well-being. You live with yourself every second of your existence. Therefore, it's essential to feel good about who you are and put other people's opinions into perspective. Being the the best version of yourself is more important than pleasing others.”

“It happened as it always did, swallowing her swiftly and completely. Intense. Painful. Quick, vivid colors spun beneath her eyelids. Sounds were sharp inside her skull. Fire shot up through her bones. She may have been screaming and she wouldn’t have known. There was smoke in her nose, thick and black, and she couldn’t breathe. It stung her eyes and licked at her skin. Wood and metal crashed down as skin blistered and popped and she knew this wasn’t her, knew it was someone else, someone with a bigger body, bigger boots and darker jeans, and big ol’ hands with scars on the fingers. Men’s hands. Nails blunt and dirty with oil and grease and burning and- The cars were on fire. Paper burned and curled and rags ignited, the cement floor pockmarked by flash fires. Meat withered in her nose and she realized it was her. Him. Dancing embers blackened and burned bone. He screamed and she hoped she was not. He writhed and she really hoped she was not. He was dying, dead, and-”

“Moving slowly and silently as she always had when entering this house, Lynn made her way into the living room. Or what she’d remembered as the living room. As she looked around, the only things left were the cracked and peeling paint and the blackout curtains made obsolete by boarding the property. Lynn closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the dusty air to settle her feelings.”

“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.”

“Revisionist views of the Constitution by opportunistic politicians and unelected judges with agendas that reinterpret the Bill of Rights to take power away from the people and consolidate it at the federal level threaten the core principles of the Republic. As a free people, keeping federal power in check is something that should be of concern to us all. The fundamental value of freedom is what sets us apart from the rest of the world. We are citizens, not subjects, and we must stay ever vigilant that we remain so.”

“These were the nights Chloe Morrison dreaded the most--when the stars filled the sky and shone vigorously down on her family's farm like countless police interrogation lamps. On these nights, she believed the sky became conscious, aware, and sought to act. Chloe understood what the twinkling expanse endevoured to do. It was a desperate attempt to illuminate the hidden depravities practiced on the farm.”

“Well, she was strangled to death. That much is obvious. But not by the stockings so lovingly tied around her throat, but by hand. She had bruising from hands there before death. They made it personal. After death, they tied the stockings there. Not sure why, but that's where the evidence seems to lead. Probably just some sick way to get their kicks, honestly. - David”