[..] and there are tons of people I hate so much that I wouldn't mind taking them out. But killing them wouldn't get me anywhere - that's the conclusion I always come to. If I'm going to pay for it in the end, I might as well let them live.
The only way I can protect him now is to make sure he never understands how easy killing can become.
...my little blurb wasn't going to win me any speaker-of-the-year awards, but at least I hadn't tripped and fallen off the stage, crushing and killing three elderly jazz fans.
The place is also big enough. We could all live there without killing each other." -Rhage "That depends more on your mouth than any floorplan." -Phury
It seems as though mankind has forgotten the laws of its divine Saviour, Who preached love and forgiveness of injuries—and that men attribute the greatest merit to skill in killing one another.
Killing myself was a matter of such indifference to me that I felt like waiting for a moment when it would make some difference.
But sometimes living in denial was the only way to keep a man from going on a killing spree.
You've been killing me inside and I don't want to die like this.
And killing time is perhaps the essence of comedy, just as the essence of tragedy is killing eternity.
Crawley reached into the pocket of his fancy robe - a dinner jacket, I think it's called. The kind of thing Professer Plum would wear before killing Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the candlestick.
It’s like a cotillion, this partners business, except with killing.” “So, exactly like a cotillion,” said Simon.
God seemed to be having a hard time killing him, and he'd be damned if he was going to make the job easy for mere mortals
And I'm dying to know, is it killing you like it's killing me? And the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now.
If it's true, why do they leave us to live like this? With the hunger and the killings and the Games?" And suddenly I hate this imaginary underground city of District 13 and those who sit by, watching us die. They're no better than the Capitol.
What's with all the running, anyway? I mean, I realize the importance of stamina and all that, but shouldn't I be moving on to something with a little hitting? They're still killing me in group practice.” "Maybe you should hit harder.
Sorry doesn’t mean anything! Not when you’re still with him. It’s not just that you cheated—it’s that he’s still here, and you’re still with him. It just goes on and on, and it hurts every single time I see you with him. I hate it that he makes you smile, and that there’s nothing I can do to stop this. I can’t think straight, and everything hurts, and nothing makes sense anymore. You’re shredding my heart with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. And it’s killing me, Faythe. You’re killing me. And it’s only going to get worse, now that everyone knows.
Both Christian and Adrian had worried there would be some piece of Strigoi left in him, but their fears had been about violence and bloodshed. No one would have guessed this: that living as a Strigoi had hardened his heart, killing any chance of him loving anyone. Killing any chance of him loving me. And I was pretty sure that if that was the case, then part of me would die too.
But if all they did was kill time, time would end up killing them.
I could tell you it's the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.
Let me tell you about gays in the military. I don't want any gay people hanging around me while I'm killing kids. I just don't want to see it.
That's what Glocks are. High-precision killing machines that scream "Daddy Issues.
You're killing me here, Ash. Good, she said. She'd bend a few rules, but they both knew she wasn't going to push him beyond where he chose to go. Love wasn't to be based on trickery. But reminding him what he's refusing isn't trickery.
How about this?' Simmon asked me. "Which is worse, stealing a pie or killing Ambrose?" I gave it a moment's hard thought. "A meat pie, or a fruit pie?
He picked some unwise words. Saying, “I’ll enjoy killing you for my lord”, is just not the way to make my acquaintance.
The sun's champagne streamed from one body into another. And there was a couple on the green silk of the grass, covered by a raspberry umbrella. Only their feet and a little bit of lace could be seen. In the magnificent universe beneath the raspberry umbrella, with closed eyes, they drank in the sparkling madness. 'Extra! Extra! Zeppelins over the North Sea at 3 o'clock.' But under the umbrella, in the raspberry universe, they were immortal. What did it matter that in another far-away universe people would be killing each other?
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: