Quotes About Suspense

She pressed her fingers to the woman's neck and felt icy skin. Bending close to the lips, she waited for the whisper of a breath, the faintest puff of air against her cheek. The corpse opened its eyes.

An hour before her shift started, an hour before she was even supposed to be there, they rolled the first corpse through the door.

Frost lurched away, gagging. The nude man hung upside down, his ankles bound with orange nylon cord. Like a pig carcass hanging in a slaughterhouse, his abdomen had been sliced open, the cavity stripped of all organs. Both arms

Kusursuz suç, diye düÅŸündü Jane. Ama bir görgü tan??? vard?. Mahsen merdiveninin alt?na saklanm??, sessiz bir k?z.

Was the house being watched? They could not see the Wolf Men, and more importantly, Catherine could not smell them. So taking a chance, they ran up the steps to the front door and rang the bell. It was opened almost at once. "Come in, come in quickly," said Mrs. Poole. "Poor Miss Frankenstein has killed a man!

I'm always jumping in my seat or gasping during a good horror movie.

Scary movies depend on sound a lot to scare people. When I look around and see people are jumping in their seats, I think: Why? Why? Nothing happened!

What I liked about 'Get Out,' which is so rare, is that there's just as much focus on getting to know and care about these characters on top of the film being clever and scary.

I love 'The Shining.' Kubrick is pretty amazing.

He leaned over and removed the lid, and some really wonderful smells steamed out. But I wasn't going to get excited, not this time, because it was probably Bambi in shallots or Nemo with fennel or—

I'm going to kill the kid. - Barrons says faintly. Ryodan makes a burbling sound like a bodly laught. -Get in line

Hey, I thought you wanted to know about the Sinsar Dubh!" I was so startled by his abrupt departure that I spoke without thinking. I regretted it immediately. I had no idea where Vlane had gone, or why he"d disappeared so suddenly, but I decided Id be wise to do the same myself. Before I could move, a hand closed on my shoulder. "I do, Ms. Lane," Barrons said grimly. "But first I"d like to know what the fuck you were doing kissing him.

Dani, Dani, Dani." I flinch. I've never heard anyone say my name so gently. It creeps me all kinds of out. He's towering over me, arms crossed over his chest, scarred forearms dark against the rolled-up sleeves of a crisp white shirt. Heavy silver cuffs glint at both wrists. The light is smack behind his head, as usual. "You didn't really think I'd let you get away with it," Ryodan says.

Holy psychotic PCs, Robin, we've a murderous MacBook on the loose!

He was so close, his body electric, his expression savage. I moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing. He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced the air, and turned his back to me. "Was that an invitation, Ms. Lane?" "If it was?" I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing? "I don't do hypotheticals. Little girl

I glanced back at the two darknesses. They were moving toward us. Quickly. I looked up at Barrons. He was motionless, staring down at me. He turned and looked over his shoulder where I had been staring, then back at me. Then he pushed open the door, shoved me inside, shut the door, and slid three dead bolts behind us.

It's too quiet, Barrons growls.

suspense…Martin definitely

Then he says her name. Her real name. The soft music of it hangs suspended in the air between them. Threat or entreaty, she doesn't know, but she feels her resolve weaken. He says it again, this time, it sounds bitter, false in his mouth. A betrayal. The spell is broken. The woman known as Sophie lifts her arm. And shoots.

Gérard de Villiers

This novel has humor, romance, a touch of suspense, but most of all love—love of books and bookish people and, really, all of humanity in its imperfect glory." —EOWYN IVEY, author of The Snow Child

If a gun appears in act one, that gun had better go off by act three.

Why do you keep reading a book? Usually to find out what happens. Why do you give up and stop reading it? There may be lots of reasons. But often the answer is you don't care what happens. So what makes the difference between caring and not caring? The author's cruelty. And the reader's sympathy...it takes a mean author to write a good story.

Kallista nodded. "Come, Torchay. Seems we should pack." They sailed upriver with the dawn. "What's wrong with you?" Someone had hold of Stone's hair, shaking his head as if it were a sackful of kittens to be drowned.