Vampire Quotes - Page 5

Better undead than dead.

You see why I’m such a good vampire? We’re all lying, devious bastards, not like werewolves, if there are werewolves, whose MO is, “Hi, I’m a werewolf, surprise! And fuck you!” No, we lurk. We’re lurkers.

Christopher Buehlman

Nothing would keep him from loving her. She was everything he wanted. She was his.

There's always one sure way of finding out that you're a misfit. When you're eleven years old, and your friends are telling you that they just sneaked into the theater to watch 'Twilight' and that it was "sooooo emotional and sooooo terrifying and soooooo romantic!" - but you've been spending the summer watching 'Rosemary's Baby' and 'Don't Look Now' and knowing the lines to all the Alfred Hitchcock films by heart - that's the moment you realize that you're a misfit.

For what can the damned really have to say to the damned?

Anne Rice

Death and madness are his only mistresses.

Kristen Painter

He’s a he. I mean he’s a guy. He’s your mate. Oh my God you’re gay!” Aleks exclaimed. Liam slapped himself on the forehead.

Aleks opened his mouth to reassure his friend when heheard something that chilled him to the bone.“Aleksander Aaron Arkadion! What in the hell is wrong with you! Why are you dragging that mangledcorpse through town? You traumatized an entire first-grade class on a field trip to the town center,” Ma said,striding up to them pointing down to the body that Aleks still had a hold of.He looked down at the ankle he was holding.“Fuck my life.” Aleks looked behind his ma at the trail of blood heading back to the ice cream parlor.Liam laughed, his arms wrapped around his waist holding his sides.

You can think whatever you want, do whatever you want... I'm going to just go on loving you, even if it's hopeless." - Adrian Ivashkov

As my laughter faded, he shot me an amused glance. "You should laugh more often. It's far less nauseating than your speaking voice." "That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." "Don't let it go to your head.

I am an offspring of the dead. I am descended from the deceased. I am the progeny of phantoms. My ancestors are the illustrious multitudes of the defunct, grand and innumerable. My lineage is longer than time. My name is written in embalming fluid in the book of death. A noble race is mine.

I value my privacy, and if sometimes my actions seem strange or arbitrary or capricious, I do not want them challenged.

George R.R. Martin

Fangs out? Check. Claws sharp? Check. Plan? Plan? What plan? I’m making this up as I go.

I spent a lot of last night being moody and grim.I’m a vampire. We’re allowed to do that. It’s in all the brochures.

He kissed my palm, lingering his lips on my skin. Then he inhaled. "Mmmm," he moaned. " Like gin to an alcoholic. Sweet as fresh molasses and deadly as snake venom.

Vampire fans read the vampire not as death but as possibility

Milly Williamson

How much blunter can I be, Sehun? After tonight, it should be pretty obvious.”“What should be pretty obvious?”“Don’t play coy.”“Kai—”“I want you, Sehun. How many times should I tell you that?” he cupped Sehun’s cheek, staring into his eyes. “And I’d go through every bit of what I went through tonight again if it were for you.

BLOODY LIPSThe bloody woundOf the gladiatorGurgles out life's end.The cries of acclimations from the standsFill the sky with raging tigers.Waving their arms about to incite the massesThe aging notables add an air of dignity to the arena.Making their separate entriestheyKNEELover the still-warm corpsesOf the young. Their withered lips they poseUpon the fresh flowing woundsAnd, to prolong their lives – so they believe,Suck, ravenously suck out the blood, blood, blood.Fresh blood from the sunFlowing into filthy veinsAs into sewage pipes,And thus the Heart of the Nation is abandoned.

Suppose every photo of me ever taken was an infinitesimal piece? Every magazine ad, every negative, every frame of motion picture film - another tiny molecule of me, stolen away to feed an audience that is *never* satiated. And when someone is fully consumed - vampirized - they move on, still hungry, to pick their next victim by making him or her a star. That's why they're called consumers. ("Red Light")

I know that everyone in this room, Bernie Fain included, thinks I'm some kind of a nut with my so-called fixation on this vampire thing. OK, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he only thinks he is. But there are things here that can't be explained away by so-called common sense. Not even Bernie's report can explain some of them.'I was at the hospital yesterday.' I looked directly at Butcher. 'Your own people fired maybe fifty or sixty rounds at him, some at point-blank range. How come this man never even slowed down? How come a man seventy years old can outrun police cars for more than fifteen blocks? How come when he gets clubbed on the head he doesn't bleed like other people? Look at these photos! There's a gash on his forehead... and whatever is trickling down from the cut is clear... it isn't blood.'How come three great, big, burly hospital orderlies weighing an estimated total of nearly seven-hundred fifty pounds couldn't bring one, skinny one-hundred sixty pound man to his knees? How come an ex-boxer, a light-heavyweight not long out of the ring, couldn't even faze him with his best punch, a right hook that should have broken his jaw?'Face it. Whether it's science, witchcraft or black magic, this character has got something going for him you don't know anything about. He doesn't seem to feel pain. Or get winded. And he doesn't seem to be very frightened by guns, or discouraged by your efforts to trap him.'Look at these photos! Look at that face! That isn't fear there. It's hate. Pure hate! This man is evil incarnate. He is insane and he may be something even worse although you'd laugh at me because I have no scientific documentation to back me up. Hell, even Regenhaus and Mokurji have all but confirmed that he sucks blood.'Whatever he is, he's been around a long time and this seems to be the closest any police force has come to putting the finger on him. If you want to go on operating the way you've been doing by treating him like an ordinary man, go ahead. But, I'll bet you any amount of money you come up empty handed again. If you try to catch him at night he'll get away just like he did last night. He'll...''Jesus Christ!' bellowed Butcher. 'This son of a bitch has diarrhea of the mouth. Can't one of you people shut him up?

Jeff Rice

The famous courtesan Clarimonde died recently, as the result of an orgy which lasted eight days and eight nights. It was something infernally magnificent. They revived the abominations of the feasts of Belshazzar and Cleopatra. Great God! what an age this is in which we live! The guests were served by swarthy slaves speaking an unknown tongue, who to my mind had every appearance of veritable demons; the livery of the meanest among them might have served as a gala-costume for an emperor. There have always been current some very strange stories concerning this Clarimonde, and all her lovers have come to a miserable or a violent end. It has been said that she was a ghoul, a female vampire; but I believe that she was Beelzebub in person.

Théophile Gautier

Carol, a swing-shift cocktail waitress in the Bird of Paradise's show lounge had gotten home (guesswork, here) around 2:15 - 2:30, poured herself a glass of milk, and had opened the back door of the kitchen for reasons unknown. (Fingerprints were later found on the outside knob that, while smudged, didn't belong to either girl.)She had opened the door, and died. Suddenly, quietly, without disturbing her sleeping roommate only a few feet away.

Jeff Rice

Zach had once heard the president described as "the most dangerous narcissist alive, because the world really does revolve around him.

Christopher Farnsworth

It was getting difficult to see exactly what was going on in the pool and a fourth officer jumped in as one came up with the unconscious form of the first cop. While others pulled the half-drowned man from the pool, three more wrestled Skorzeny to the surface and dragged him to the steps at the shallow end of the pool. He wasn't struggling any longer. Nor was he breathing with any apparent difficulty. The biggest of the three cops later admitted to punching him as hard as he could in the stomach and Skorzey doubled over. Another half-dragged him, still on his feet, shirt torn, jacket ripped, out of the pool and put a handcuff on his left wrist.Skorzeny pulled his arm away from the cop and, suddenly straightening, elbow-jabbed him in the gut, sending him sprawling and rolling back into the pool. Skorzeny turned toward the back fence and was now between the pool and a small palm tree. Before him were two advancing officers, pistols leveled. Behind him two more circled the pool. Skorzeny lunged forward and all fired simultaneously. The noise was deafening. Lights in neighboring houses began to go on.Skorzeny's body twitched and bucked as the heavy slugs ripped through his body. His forward momentum carried him into the officers ahead of him and he half-crawled, half-staggered to the southeast corner of the yard where another gate was set into the fiberglass fencing. Two more officers, across the pool, cut loose with their pistols, emptying them into this writing body which danced like a puppet. Another cop fired two shots from his pump-action shotgun and Skorzeny was lifted clean off his feet and slammed against the gate, sagging to the ground.En masse from both ends of the pool they advanced, when he gave out with a terrible hissing snarl and started to rise once more. All movement ceased as the cops, to a man, stood frozen in their tracks. Skorzeny stood there like some hideous caricature, his shredding clothing and skin hanging like limp rags from his scarecrow form. His flesh was ripped in several places and he was oozing something that looked like watered-down blood. It was pinkish and transparent. He stood there like a living nightmare. Then he straightened and raised his fist with the cuff still dangling from it like a charm bracelet.'Fools!' he shrieked. 'You can't kill me. You can't even hurt me.'Overhead, the copter hovered, the copilot giving a blow-by-blow description of the fight over the radio. The police on the ground were paralyzed. Nearly thirty shots had been fired (the bullets later tallied in reports turned in by the participating officers) and their quarry was still as strong as ever. He'd been hit repeatedly in the head and legs, so a bulletproof vest wasn't the answer. And at distances sometimes as little as five feet, they could hardly have missed. They'd seen him hit.They stood frozen in an eerie tableau as the still roiling pool water threw weird reflections all over the yard.Then Skorzeny did the most frightening thing of all. He smiled. A red-rimmed, hideous grin revealing fangs that 'would have done justice to a Doberman Pinscher.

Jeff Rice

Impossible,'" Matthew said."'Impossible n'est pas français,' Ysabeau said, her tone tart as vinegar. 'And it certainly was not a word in your father's vocabulary.

Deborah Harkness

Do you think it's really the Boogeyman that killed Brent? You think it's back?""I sincerely hope not.""When you say things like that, I start to cry a little on the inside.

Christopher Farnsworth

I’ve missed you. I feel terrible when we’re apart. I’m so lonely, and I get so scared that you won’t think of me anymore someday, and I will be forgotten here. I only trust and believe in you. I live through you; and to be apart, I can’t stand this wretched feeling anymore.

Get in here and make me some dinner—now, woman.""News flash, Michael, you're supposed to be evil, not redneck!

Typically, I prefer to gag my own men. I'd never considered having them delivered to me that way.

Cupping one of her cheeks, he swiped at the wetness. “Would you want to live without me?”Tears flowing freely, she shook her head.“Then don’t expect me to live without you. You’re mine, Fiona. Have been from the moment I laid eyes on you, from the moment you tried to warn me off fighting your brother because you were worried I’d get hurt. Don’t you dare expect me to live a life without you! You go into the afterlife? So do I. Simple as that. If we have a day left, I want to enjoy every second of it with you.

She was his life, his everything.

I’m not letting you go, Fiona,” he murmured before brushing his lips over hers. She tasted like heaven. And his. Only his. “I’m not going anywhere.

With her, and only with her, the dead in me is alive.

The group’s laughter echoed off the stained, plaster ceiling. I raised my beer, but before I clinked the bottles together, I challenged him. “You think you’re a man I won’t forget?”“Ah’m nae any man ye’ve met before.”“Praise be,” I smirked, “the others haven’t been worth spit.”Then the whiskey came, and I was taken by the tawny light, forgetting to worry about my ‘crazy’. Until Angus’ efforts at gilding my heart, called my ‘alter’ to the fore.

Cheryl R Cowtan

Good was above all kind; it was to be gentle. It was to waste nothing. It was to paint, to read, to study, to listen.

Anne Rice

Life is a tragedy, one way or another. What is certain is that you die.

Anne Rice

But remember the overall lesson, that your love for others, and their love for you, that the increase of love in life itself around you, is what matters.

Anne Rice

Yes, I'm hungry. Horny, too! The thought of feeding from you is a most delectable idea and it's playing havoc with my brain as well as other parts of my body."He sat up and scooted closer to me...

If you knew what I was, Ash, you would not like me either.

C.V. Hunt

To the jaded eye, all vampires seem alike, but they are wonderful in their versatility. Some come to life in moonlight, others are killed by the sun, some pierce with their eyes, others with fangs, some are reactionary, others are rebels, but all are disturbingly close to the mortals they prey on. I can think of no other monsters who are so receptive. Vampires are neither inhuman nor nonhuman nor all-too-human, they are simply more alive than they should be.

Immediately Chelsea latched onto her wrist and pulled Veronica’s hand toward the cup. “Nonsense.” Chelsea’s eyes narrowed in on Veronica. Her eyes turned black and her mouth opened slightly, revealing her fangs. “Now drink up, researcher. Don’t let a good drink go to waste.

Isaiyan Morrison

Remy tilted his head to sniff the air. “I love that smell.” He turned his head to look over his shoulder. “The smell of fear.

Isaiyan Morrison

Standing over her, I took the time to admire my handy work until I realized that I had just killed a potential meal. “Damn it Bobbi,” I snarled as I kicked her corpse. “Look what you made me do.

Isaiyan Morrison

Henry held up his taco- formerly Vlad's- and grinned. " Little known fact, gentlemen. Tacos are the food of genius."pg248 Henry to Vlad & Joss

The only thing more dangerous then a vampire crazed with blood lust was a vampire crazed with anything else. All the meticulous single-mindedness that went into finding young women who slept with their bedroom window open got channeled into some other interest, with merciless and painstaking efficiency...

Terry Pratchett

They'll torture you for months before killing you if you run" Otis shrugged, as if this was an everyday occurrence.

No", she wanted to say. " I don't want you to care for me, I want to be with my husband." But nothing came out. She turned beseeching her eyes to Darcy and she saw him as if from a great distance, through a distorting glass, but his words were firm and clear. “She has no taste for your company,” he said.“No?” said the gentleman. “But I have a taste for her.”Hers, thought Elizabeth. He should have said hers.“Let her go,” said Darcy warningly.“Why should I?” asked the gentleman.“Because she is mine,” said Darcy.The gentleman turned his full attention toward Darcy and Elizabeth followed his eyes.And then she saw something that made her heart thump against her rib cage and her mind collapse as she witnessed something so shocking and so terrifying that the ground came up to meet her as everything went black.

drenching his shirt with saltwater

Stephenie Meyer

You're wondering if you have to prey on humans, if you can survive by drinking the blood of animals or other creatures. You're hoping you won't have to kill people to live. Am I right?

Liz wrenched her hand from his grasp, and this time, she stepped boldly forward. “I will stay and Michael can go.” Her voice did not waiver as she pronounced her own death sentence. No matter what happened to her, she knew she couldn’t let him die.

Sorry, pigtails, but subtlety isn't an option anymore.

How you, a weak boy caught in the middle of a storm, both in reality and metaphorically, would risk your life to save some girl—some girl who tortured you, ignored you, destroyed you.

Jenks and I stood there like statues watching him twitch, his eyes rolling up in his head. He clutched at his clothes pulling the wooden pole they hung from down on top of him. Slowly his right hand came scrambling out away from his body to clutch at my left leg. Without thinking I shoved my crucifix at him and he pulled his hand back with a hiss, shielding his face again. As quickly as I could, I dug my tubes of Holy Water out of my coat pocket and emptied them on his head. He shrieked again and clawed at his face. Jenks followed suit, pouring his two vials on Skorzeny's body and legs. Skorzeny started to foam and bubble before our eyes.I was paralyzed. I couldn't quite believe what was happening. Those books hadn't described any of this. I was feeling dizzy and sick. The shrieks turned to groans and a gurgling deep in his throat. He pulled his hands away from his face and it looked like the disintegrating Portrait of Dorian Gray. I looked over to Jenks who had an odd expression on his face.I looked over to Jenks who had on odd expression on his face. He motioned to me and reached for my left hand which, I noticed, was still clutching the airline hag with the stake and hammer in it. I dropped it and he grabbed it off the floor, moving over to the smoking form still squirming in the closet which smelled even more foul than before, and oozing a greenish yellow pus from the crumpled clothing on his scarecrow frame.Jenks looked back at me and handed me the stake and hammer. 'Go ahead. This was your idea. Finish it.' I declined, turning away.Jenks spun me around violently and thrust the stake into my left hand. He pushed me toward what was left of Skorzeny and forced me to my knees. He forced my hand toward Skorzeny, positioning the stake over the man's chest. Then he stuck the hammer in my right hand.'Do it, you gutless sonofabitch. Finish it... now!' And he stepped away.I looked at him and back at Skorzeny. Then I gave one vicious swing and hit the stake dead center. The thing made a gurgling grunt, like a pig snuffling for food, and started to regurgitate a blackish fluid from its mouth. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and hit the stake three more times. Then I fell back and threw up.When I looked back, Skorzeny's hands, or what was left of them, clutched at the stake trying to pull it out. Suddenly, he emitted a kind of moaning, sucking sound, gagged and more bile-colored liquid flecked with black and red came coiling up in a viscous rope like some evil worm from his mouth. And he stopped moving, his hands still clutching the stake.Then a sort of gaseous mist started to rise from his body and it was so much worse than the original smell that I pushed Jenks aside and ran from the house. I ran all the way to a patrol car where I slumped against the left front wheel as Jenks slowly strolled toward me. He walked past me, ignoring me, and opened his trunk, taking out a couple of small gas cans, and headed back to the house. I wasn't paying much attention until he left the house again and I saw it was aflame.

Jeff Rice

My turner Mah'Lor is with me forever as well. At least his head is.

Love gives you the strength to face an army, vampire or human...Love gives you a reason to press on through the storm. Love helps you think clearly and follow the clues ahead, if you know where they lead.

Israbel smiled once more. It was difficult to take your gaze away from her mouth - unless you looked into her eyes; and then you could only look at those... ("Israbel")

Only one comment seemed to perfectly fit her current situation. “I see dead people.”He leaned forward hands on his hips. “Me too. It’s the only explanation for what’s standing in front of me. Unless some high school kids broke into the anatomy closet and stole the classroom skeleton, stretched some cadaver skin over that bitch then cast an ancient ritual to animate it.” She laughed. For as much as she now disliked the bastard she had to admit he was amusing. “Did they do the same to that shit you’re wearing? You do realize it’s 2008 right?” She raised a hand. “Wait let me see if I can reach you using your own language. You do ken ‘tis year of our Lord two thousand and eight aye?

Jennifer Turner

Shane: "Bro," he said, in an injured tone, "I had to go out with a flamethrower, and you weren't there to see it." Michael: "Pics or it didn't happen." Shane: "Dude, little busy for pics. You know, throwing flame.

What about you? If I asked you . . . would you turn me?"Faith's eyes went wide. "Turn you into a vampire?""No, turn me into a frog. Could you do it?"Faith finished her beer in one long swallow. "I might be able to, physically. But I wouldn't."Miranda had known she would say that, but still, her heart sank. "Why not?"She laughed. "Because my boss would kill me.

Today I asked Chloe to be my girlfriend,and she agreed. I sank my teeth into her neck and drank from her jugular in the library at lunchtime. She's agreed to join me as a vampire and she's moving in next week.April Fool!

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