Quotes about psychological-thriller

Even the worst humans in the history of the world didn’t grow up thinking, "I hope I slaughter an entire race of people when I’m an adult".

It was once said that to hide something from prying eyes you must place it where people can see it.

I was reaching for one of the handles when I heard Heidler’s voice from behind me. ‘It would not be wise to enter. It is a bad time to disturb the dead.

This madman must be stopped.

He's been injecting the anti-aging hormone into his wife.

He could still remember how the first sip of wine made him feel.

The sun glowed behind the monotonous, gray January sky, a tease of light through the heavy hazy. Noah gazed out the window. He hated when the sun shined against the overcast sky creating a white, blinding glare while the ball of yellow remained hidden, a tantalizing possibility without a promise. Maybe it would poke through; maybe it wouldn't. That type of sun was a capricious as a woman.

Looking at that pain in her eyes, he felt a closeness with her that he had never experienced before. Like they shared something powerful and unspoken, something so deep and devastating, it bonded them together. He knew then, that if she didn't forgive him, he would never survive.He was nothing without her.

She would not have another man push her aside like some appetizer, there to wet his whistle only to be left once the main dish arrived.No more. She pushed her thumb into his throat a little harder.

We all draw different lines. Sometimes they intersect. Sometimes they don’t. We agree on forms of evil, but judge degrees of it, saying only the worst of humanity is truly bad. And everything along the gray lines is subject to opinion. These are the lines I constantly live on, crossing through intersections that lead down paths I barely remember. And at certain times, for unknown reasons, the grim reality of consequence decides to rear its ugly head at me, and forces me to see what I’ve done. An

It was all her doing. She had cried wolf and the wolf had come.

Some of the braver say I am mad.

Fear,’ he whispered. ‘There is nothing quite like it. I love how it looks, I love how it feels, I love how it smells. And I especially love the sound of it.’ I felt his tongue on my cheek. ‘I even love the taste of it

I hear you're quite the writer. Quite the teacher's pet.""I... I don't know what you mean.""No? Then maybe you're in for a surprise. And maybe it won't be a nice one."Kate heard her voice lashing out, braver than she felt."I don't know what you're talking about. But nothing that pertains to me is any of your business.'The match hissed again. She saw his black, black eyes flickering."You're right. How inconsiderate of me."Shaken, Kate willed her feet to move her forward."You should be more carefu

There are some that even beg for the Chamber," she could hear Isaar saying in the back of her mind. "Soft minded fools or broken souls that would rather live a fabricated existence than deal with reality.

They shared a sensation that was as addictive as a needle full of heroin to a street junkie.

I knew the end would come, one day. I knew my life deserved to be over. Yet, even knowing that, I was no less fearful.

Of all the problems and complications in my life, I had not expected love to be one of them.

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But sometimes i have to ask myself this question. its true that to us his imaginings are nothing but the inventions of a busy mind. But to him, there simply is no other reality. Further more, he is happy there, so why, I ask myself, why in the name of healing him must we drag him painfully into the world of our own reality?'- Doctor's Memo

He who fears being watched from the abysswill be unable to look into it himself.The truth can only be obtained by pressing forward.

The questions push me further into the space in between, the place where my madness lays waiting for me. I struggle with each question, determined to extract some sort of answer, an explanation for everything that has happened so far. But no answers come and I’m forced to acknowledge the feeling lodged between my two worldsTerror.

I closed the door and sank into my desk chair. My heart was pounding even harder. I felt like someone who had just staggered out of her car after an accident on a freeway. This was different from the cockroach and the books and the Barbie. I’d been injured. Someone had tried to physically harm me.

Well, be careful,” she said, her words deliberate. She quickly twisted her head, as if making certain no one was behind her. When she turned back around, her green eyes were hard and filled with hate. “Because wouldn’t it be terrible if you slipped and hurt yourself?

...We were pulling into the next station, when the woman suddenly got to her feet and made a move to squeeze past me. As her knees made contact with mine, she turned towards me. Her eyes locked straight onto mine, her eyelids pinned back, with a look I could only describe as sheer dread. In the next second, deep tram-lines formed between her eyebrows and her expression shifted. It was as if she was silently imploring me, entreating me. To do what? I had no idea. I was immobile, her gaze pressing

She had been lying there, facedown in the water long before the tide had turned at 3.04 that morning. Her eyes were staring into the river, her blonde hair first fanning out, then drawing back under her head with the wash of the water, like a pulsating jellyfish. The belt of her raincoat was caught on the branches of an overhanging tree and she’d been hooked, destined to forever flap against the corner of the broken pier with outstretched arms. She wasn’t going anywhere now; she was simply bobbi

Virginia screamed, grabbing for the door handle and nearly throwing herself from the moving car. James swerved to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes before she killed herself trying to escape. As it was, she flung herself from the car, falling to her knees and scrambling to her feet. Then she ran. Took off like a bolt until she rounded the bend and disappeared from view. 'Way to go, slick,' AJ said snarkily, climbing into the front seat. 'You ran her off.

You look good, Clearwater. Been working out?' Danie teased. 'He does, doesn't he?'Janelle agreed. 'This will totally work.'James' eyes darted back and forth between the girls, his head spinning. 'Wait, what will work?

A small white rabbit with floppy ears and a twitching pink nose bounded out from the thick forest brush. Fingers twitching at his side, James stepped toward the small animal, a nervous giddiness creeping up inside of him.

The finest thing in the world is knowing how to belong to oneself.Michel de Montaigne

It’s as if he’s trodden in my footsteps, seen what I’ve seen, felt what I’ve felt, as I’ve criss-crossed the moors countless times.

They stole you from me. They took you away for seven years. Your entire lifetime. A life sentence. The waiting has been endless. The watching. The planning. Now, finally, I’m almost ready. I’ve got a few things to take care of and then we can be reunited.

Make no mistake, my darling. I am coming for you. I will take you back.

If we were walking here together, I’d point out the carnivorous plants that grow on this spot: sundews with sticky red leaves, eating insects to sustain them because the soil is so poor. If you were with me, I’d take you to the Doubler Stones, where thousands of years ago, Neolithic peoples carved channels in the rock to drain away the blood from their sacrifices. I would show you where the plover nests, and the green hairstreak butterfly lays its eggs. I love this place. I love this land. It’s

Where I’m taking you, no one will ever find us. We’ll have all the time in the world for you to grow to love me as much as I love you.

Tesco at the best of times is soulless – but it’s so much worse at 6 in the morning. It’s not as empty as I thought it would be. Who the fuck shops at 6 a.m.? e florescent lights flicker. e shelf upon shelf of coloured cans make my eyes go funny. Everything is hard and shiny and there’s so much fucking choice. Why do I have to choose from thirty kinds of granola? Do I want Country Crunch or Rude Health? Raisins and almonds or tropical? Goji berries and chia seeds or Strawberry Surprise? I’ll jus

Mum, your heart is the same size as your fist,’ she told me once in delight, and we both made our hands into fists and held them against our chests and bumped them together: hands as hearts.

I don’t believe he was deliberately taking indecent pictures, they’re too artistic; he’s managed to capture that magical moment when a child’s mind spins into a make-believe world. But actually, what Jack did is steal something – a child’s innocence – whilst creating something darker that will resonate with the adults looking at these photos: themes of sexuality and death, the leitmotifs that run through fairy tales, the stories that we tell ourselves about our children.

She said that the mummy and the daddy took their daughter up onto the moor. They had a picnic. They’d brought all of her favourite food – cheese sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off and strawberry-pink cupcakes – and when the little girl had finished eating, she looked around for her mummy and the daddy. But they’d gone. They’d left Evelyn on the moor by herself.

I can’t believe I ever thought reading to her was a chore. I’d sit here some nights, fidgeting, thinking of all the things I needed to do, my voice hoarse, reluctant to read, ‘just one more chapter,’ wishing I could escape to my glass of wine. What did I have to do that was so important? What could be more important than reading my daughter a bedtime story?

Here we are, squabbling over tuna fucking sandwiches and there she is – almond-shaped green eyes, snub nose, lopsided grin, the hint of a dimple in her cheek. ‘MISSING’ is stamped over her face in large black letters.

Evie is our beautiful, dark-haired, green-eyed child,’ I say. I can hear the tremor in my voice. ‘Like many seven-year-old girls, she’s obsessed with princesses. We think she looks more like a fairy. She loves Lego and painting. She laughs easily. She has pretend tea parties in a tree in our garden and invites all her dolls. She wants to be an artist when she grows up. Please find her. Please bring her back to us. We miss her beyond measure. She is the love of our life.

She shivers. ‘I can’t understand why anyone would want to live out there. You’d be totally isolated.’
 I do. I could imagine waking up each day and instead of looking out of the window and seeing the moor in the distance, you’d be in the heart of it, feeling the wind turn, the storm rage, the rain lash, hear the plovers piping.

My husband hands me my glass, full to the brim with green-gold wine and I stifle my resentment and attempt to smile at him. I mustn’t lose sight of what we have – two beautiful children; an amazing house that I never, in a million years, thought we’d be able to afford; Gill and Andy, my best friends – and this perfect day. I take a deep breath and feel my shoulders relax. I can smell the faintest trace of heather, drifting down from the moor.

The moor has always been part of my life. It’s like a muse: the colours of the heather and the sky; how you can see the savagery of the wind in the way the dwarf pine trees are bent double, the bleak lines of the landscape in winter when everything save the moss and the grass are dead, stones like bones, poking through a thin skin of bilberry bushes, rushes reflected in black bog water.

Hello my darling, I’m your real father. I’ve been searching for you ever since you were stolen from me. I love you so much. Daddy

It’s quiet in the suburbs. It’s too cold for people to be in their gardens; and it’s not a thoroughfare so few cars drive by. I look past decaying roses and through the first flush of Michelmas daisies, blazing a glorious purple, into the darkened windows of the houses we walk by. Who lives here? Are they watching us? Did one of our neighbours do something seven years ago that he now regrets? How little we know of the people who surround us.

The dark edge of the moor and the Cow and Calf rock are crisp against the blue-black sky. I can’t see anyone outside, watching us. As I shut the door behind me, I hear a noise. It came from the hall. I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck.

I think about the story I always tell her – of the kind lady who gave her to us. I suppose that must be how she imagines her father – as a kind man who gave her away too, as if she were a gift. Only now he wants her back.

He places the skull in the palm of my hand. There are four canines; the top two are so long and curved I can feel them pricking my skin. There’s a green tinge round the eye socket and in a fine line across the cranium. I’m not sure what animal it’s from. ‘Stoat,’ Harris says, as if I’ve spoken out loud. ‘They hunt grouse and partridge. I found it behind my house. I buried the body in the furze until it was just bone.’ His hand is still beneath mine, supporting it. I think of him seeing the small

The young woman's perfect breast didn't yield beneath the gentle pressure of two latexed fingers."What're you doing?" Professor Robert 'Lithium Bob' Beck frowned at me."I don't know. It's what I did when I first saw her…""Why?" asked Doc Donald, about to assist with the post mortem."She seemed so… pink. Maybe to see if she was alive…" I saw the Prof and the Doc exchange a look. It was an unconventional - no, plain weird - place to touch her.

Other girls play with soft toys,” I said, “and you play with knives…

Everything is an echo of something I once read.Dream, hope, and celebrate life!Love always comes back in a song.One thing we all have in common is a love for food and drink.Memories never die, and dreams never end!What is time?

Whatever’s eating at you, let it go. Emotion leads to poor decisions. Poor decisions lead to scrutiny. Scrutiny is our greatest threat.”The Barn, by Ken Cruickshank

Whatever’s eating at you, let it go. Emotion leads to poor decisions. Poor decisions lead to scrutiny. Scrutiny is our greatest threat.”The Barn

Whatever’s eating at you, let it go. Emotion leads to poor decisions. Poor decisions lead to scrutiny. Scrutiny is our greatest threat.

Usually we're on the same page. Other times I'm in a whole other book"~ Arika Wolly

For now, I will say that God endowed humans with a great many powers and forces, and some of the creative, constructive powers can only be passed on through channels of others.”The Guardian

I know if I died tonight, I would die a happy man at peace with myself knowing Gloria’s story would finally be told—a mysterious and astonishing story that defies the timeworn precepts of modern psychology and psychiatry—where insanity, genius, the metaphysical, and the mystery of life come together to beguile and confound our contemporary understanding of the mind and its limitless powers to heal.Dr. Adam Jaxon

Something strange happens about dreams that Gloria has – the real world seems to get mixed up into the dreams and the dreams seem all the more real – with part of your mind you’re aware of what’s going on around you, but part of your mind is drifting and things start to get mixed up. What I’m trying to say is that the human mind has developed a safety valve and dreaming is really the unconscious mind (me in this case) clearing up the debris it has otherwise been unable to cope with on the consci

I can’t consider you a thief or a likely candidate for prison or a nervous breakdown Gloria. I sense a real strength in you more strength than you know is there – you’ve got internal reserves that ability to cope and to keep coping. Now remember don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I’ll help.”Pyramid Lady

Jenny retained a flimsy essence of the truth. It was a quiet knowing she'd always hold in her heart...''Broken Mirror by Oliver Rixon

Jenny sensed the energy of the cosmos. It was like a harmonious orchestra vibrating the universe into existence.' Broken Mirror by Oliver Rixon

My mind is quiet now. There is no fire or ash, no sulfur or shattering glass. Only silence, empty and cold.

Didn’t anyone ask you where your parents are?""They asked. Especially about my parents.""What did you tell them?""I said I ate them.""Jesus, Rosa.

My thoughts are quiet, but not calm. There is a terror on the edge of the silence, a terror fed by my burning flesh and the stench of death.

Ien stopped her voice with more kisses, more promises of a world filled with only them.

She opens her eyes as the fury continues, pinning me with her glare. Her gaze reached into my soul as I spin the music back to the simple melody at its core—our melody. A moment of recognition washes over her, followed by regret, fear, terror. An entire kaleidoscope of emotions exists within a single heartbeat.

Forever. He carved the word into his soul. Kiera was his forever, deformity or no deformity.

The concrete floor beneath the airbed was hard and uncompromising, digging into her back and making it difficult to breathe. The stale air reeked of disinfectant and shit. And something else that she couldn't quite place. Death, perhaps?

Since her diagnoses she has been fading like a light bulb with cancer’s hand on the rotary dimmer.

I was taught to deceive by a great deceiver. Jenny will embrace me as a good man. Just as you did...before tonight.

Whatever you’re not telling me, let it go. Emotion leads to poor decisions. Poor decisions lead to scrutiny. Scrutiny is our greatest threat.

Smiles were rare in this house. Smiles had to be bought and paid for.

It started with feelings of jealousy and like a mental virus it spread.

Life is messy. No matter how hard we try to create order, something happens to cause the structure we created to falter. Maybe that's the only way for us to learn. If everything stayed neat and orderly, then we would never be forced to grow and change. We need something unexpected to help us make sense of where we are and to guide us to where we need to go.

Because of that, he didn't know how to love someone who actually loved him. He had learned a twisted, tormented kind of love filled with pain and exploitation.

She averted his eyes, but not before he recognized the pain in them, a tormented and languished gaze, a stare preserved for people who were able to love deeply enough that they could be destroyed by it.

Denial. It’s the only thing that keeps most of us from losing our sanity.

Unhappy people can be very dangerous, don't forget that.

The truth, a truth, and reality are not always the same.

I wake and in those first fuddled moments forget you’re not here. I must have been dreaming about you – a tense, erotic dream. I reach out in bed to the place your body should be. It’s cold and there is no hollow. Even the bed is forgetting you.

Everything was new, everything was exciting. We were playing house, it seemed, playing at being grownups. When you’re in love, I suppose everything feels like a game.

What was justice, after all, but a particular outcome?

You know this has really affected my ability to trust myself. No matter what happened in my life, I was always able to trust myself. My instincts. Two men in a row carrying on indiscretions makes me feel like I made up some story. Almost like a fiction, Iwrote in my mind that had a beginning, middle and end. It feels like I manufactured some ideal life that was a made-up invention that I needed to believe was the truth.

It was one of those late summer days trying its best to convince everyone that winter would never seep through and ravage the earth.

The city was a machine of its own, continuously producing. We were constantly pumped out through its assembly line, in different forms or models. We came hardwired with different stories, dark secrets, vices, and defects. Over time, we fail and come to find our end, but the city continues onwards.

There's talk he's become emotionally unhinged.

She pulled off the highway and quickly changed into the burkha.

We're strong for each other ! It's what women do!" said Zelda to Pearl"He Counts Their Tears" by Mary Ann D'Alto

At forty-one, he was still the quintessential bad boy—charming, at ease in his skin, and great-looking, with deep blue eyes, slicked-back brown hair, and the kind of full, sensuous mouth that bad boys seemed to have an unfair market on.