Crime Quotes - Page 12

One has to commit a painting,' said Degas,'the way one commits a crime.

Elizabeth Bishop

I needed to know, Jesse. I needed to get inside his head. To find this son of a bitch, I need to get inside his head.” - Stephanie Carovella

Her eyes narrowing, she turned her attention back to where Stephanie stood with Ben, feeling her own pain turn to intense fury. “Dominic knew her so damn well because he was usually thinking the same thing. She was his female version – two halves fitting perfectly together,” Gena spat out, anger inflected in her voice. “Like him, she’s reckless and like him, once she gets something into her head nothing or no one will change her mind.” Her fury revealed itself in her eyes, as she spat out, “And, like him, she’s going to get herself killed.” - Gena Evans, Nowhere to Run

It is injustice to determine the brutality of an action because of the victim or the criminal.

There is sometimes a fine line between a cop and a criminal. What drives their personality may be the same, and they have simply chosen different roles and professions to call their own."Dr. ML Rapier PhD, Clinical Psychologist.

Marla poked Duncan. He stepped forward. "Maybe I can help."Atomic Jack looked at him., his eyes glowed a sickening shade of radioactive orange. "I really don't see how." He slipped off his glove and his hand burst into small flames. The guy didn't yell though, or make out like he was in pain. He just grinned and showed a mouthful of orange teeth.

Saji has had things done to people who crossed him or whom he has perceived as crossing him. Ugly things. These guys we're meeting? They think they're tough. They run book, own strip clubs, dabble in petty theft and probably sell dope for all I know and they're comfortable in that world, thinking they own it. That arrogance? That feeling that they can just push people around and do anything they want? It has left them with one foot in the grave and they don't even know it.

Chapter 4,‘Organised abuse and the pleasures of disbelief’, uses Zizek’s (1991) insights into cite political role of enjoyment to analyse the hyperbole and scorn that has characterised the sceptical account of organised and ritualistic abuse. The central argument of this chapter is that organised abuse has come to public attention primarily as a subject of ridicule within the highly partisan writings of journalists, academics and activists aligned with advocacy groups for people accused of sexual abuse. Whilst highlighting the pervasive misrepresentations that characterise these accounts, the chapter also implicates media consumers in the production of ignorance and disdain in relation to organised abuse and women’s and children’s accounts of sexual abuse more generally.

It was a soulless gaze, burning with a wild hatred that shouldn’t be there in anyone who could call themselves a parent.

I've always said women are vicious creatures - Detective Zach Grimes

Lauren Bradshaw

Regress towards progress - Dr Wannamaker

Lauren Bradshaw

Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

What I saw there was my own death.

Otsuichi

I'm not gonna die alone, no way! He will never allow it!

Otsuichi

This was like watching murder. Defilement. And it was something worse than either of those things. Even among his family, black trade as they were, books were holy things.

If Mistery, Crime, Horror, True Crime, SuperNature, Fiction, Non-FIcition and many other categoris if they didn't exist, and people didn't find a way to relax. Nobody will be never on the way to reach the place where almost a lot of are now, people don't want normal life they want to view the life through a killer.

I want to have her hands..!Morino's hands...

Otsuichi

There are people who kill, and people who get killed.

Otsuichi

The deal is this. You be the hero. Come down here. Unarmed. Come inside with your hands on your head. I'll let everybody go. Then I'll blow your fucking head off. Sir. How's that for a deal? You buy it?

Richard Bachman

Forgive me, God, for I'm about to sin like fuck.

No rational person would intentionally commit an act of evil, for everyone knows that it would bring the wrath of the community upon him. (Socrates)

A risk to own anything: a car, a pair of shoes, a packet of cigarettes. Not enough to go around, not enough cars, shoes, cigarettes. Too many people, too few things. What there is must go into circulation, so that everyone can have a chance to be happy for a day. That is the theory; hold to the theory and to the comforts of theory. Not human evil, just a vast circulatory system, to whose workings pity and terror are irrelevant. That is how one must see life in this country: in its schematic aspect. Otherwise one could go mad. Cars, shoes; women too. There must be some niche in the system for women and what happens to them.

Just because something isn’t good doesn’t mean it’s bad.

It wasn’t Hell; only fools and drama queens throw that word around about a place like Gotham. It was worse, in a way, because it was manmade. There wasn’t any timeless malevolence behind it all, it was just… what human beings can descend to when they let themselves forget they can be heroes.

Chris Dee

Ordinary men commit extraordinary evil all the time. Trust me.

The whole thing becomes like this evil enchantment from a fairy tale, but you're made to believe the spell can never be broken.

When John-Joseph Heller's fights became too much of a sure thing, story has it he moved on to more risky fights with grown men and even starved dogs. Though he was scarred often, he was never beaten. But as he brought each opponent to his knees, John-Joseph Heller was also growing up and his vision began to extend further than the ring.

I'll tell you what you want to hear. I mean, what I need to hear. I'll tell the truth.

There were no snooty commuters at this late hour. They were home snug in their beds where they should be.

After spending the previous night the way I had, I felt I could afford to lose some of the daytime to sleep.

Maybe if you allowed me to blow off some steam, I wouldn't have been so frustrated when I had to find higher order fucking derivatives.

Acting with confidence, but inside lacking certainty, I'd told her I could.

They had to be untrustworthy enough to buy a minor alcohol but trustworthy enough to not walk away with my money.

Misadventure asked what the harm was partaking in one more and I decided not to argue with her.

I found it hard to get motivated because I found it hard to care.

My sense of misadventure took over and I began looking at my problems as challenges.

I liked learning but the challenge was that my mother's need to turn education into a competition was ruining the experience for me.

Too much negativity can make the strongest structures dilapidate.

I found that disturbing the night's calm ambience was almost as gratifying as the ambience itself.

Maybe I should have given more thought to her thoughts.

Self-harm appealed to my sadness but I didn't let it coax me.

Would I come off as a creepy-stalker-kind-of-guy or would it demonstrate that I cared?

I'd developed an apology-is-much-better-than-asking-for-permission mentality.

It was as if I was automatically one of them because I smoked.

We smoked the joints down to the roaches and then relaxed beneath the stars to let the drug form dazzling constellations.

It was odd but I couldn't jump the chasm of missing evidence to the conclusion Todd was making.

Most would probably call it a dumb idea, but considering my wants it was a good idea.

It was an impossible achievement but that didn't stop me from trying and having fun.

What does that quote mean to you? Can you explain the concept behind it and not just repeat the pretty phrase to me?

Looking back really does make you wonder, but the truth is it doesn't change a thing.

He seemed like he was baiting me to ask, like he wanted me to know his troubles but wanted me to ask first.

Everyones' worst problems weigh the same, and it's up to you how heavy that weight is and how much you let it drag you down.

I didn't appreciate the moment as much as I should have while living it, but I can attribute that to my poor emotional state and hindsight.

Other times, when existential crisis mode kicked in, I flirted with the idea of giving up and drifting whichever way gravity and wind moved me.

Misadventure was my primary compass and I followed it without caring if I pissed off one person or a whole bunch of people.

It was a start, and a start is all anyone needs to put an end to something.

It was my duty as a mother to invade your privacy and search your room. I'm just glad you weren't hiding an illegal drug.

In a world of differing opinions, mentally unstable people and complete psychopaths, it was the type of simplistic notion that some people wouldn't want to follow or ignorance would just simply not allow them to understand.

Being determined delinquents, Peyton and I jumped the barricades and wandered around the dilapidated interior.

You know what's the worst? Having realistic, ordinary expectations taken out of your reach by seemingly unrealistic, extraordinary circumstances.

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