Quotes About Suspense

I'm a big Stephen King fan.

They'd be sitting somewhere out of sight waiting for him to turn the key and blow himself into a hundred thousand spoonfuls of hamburger.

Across the hall, Paul was either fucking the girl or murdering her, I couldn't tell which. I smelled mothballs. The afghan was going to have to go.

We're dealing with one of the worst kinds of killer." "What kind's that?" asked the lieutenant. "Patient.

Shhh," said Serge. "The flashback is starting…

I love noir, quite obviously.

You're immediately in a world of noir when you're watching shows like 'The Bridge' or 'The Killing.'

Horror is one of the few genres that allows you to explore areas in film that normally you wouldn't otherwise.

'North by Northwest' was a big influence for 'The Bourne Identity.'

When I started watching movies, I saw a lot of Hitchcock films. When I was 10, I saw 'North by Northwest' and movies like that.

The crime novel has always been my favourite genre.

Most people like a little sex in their novels.

I read a lot of detective novels.

When I was writing 'The Luminaries,' I read a lot of crime novels because I wanted to figure out which ones made me go, 'Ah! I didn't know that was coming!'

If you ask people if they enjoy crime novels, they'll say, 'Oh, my guilty pleasure is...' then name a really brilliant crime writer.

I'm obsessed with giving the audience something they don't see coming.

It was obvious what kind of game they were playing on the set of Amityville.

How different from the cosy world of Rüya's detective novels, where authors never vexed a hero with more signs than he needed.

I tell students that suspense comes, not from knowing almost nothing, but from knowing almost everything and caring very much about the small part still unknown.

The suspense is terrible. I hope it will last.

Her heart pounded as he kissed her. Or was it his heart? She hadn't been able to tell the difference ever since he'd freed her from that trap.

Kind of. White guy, maybe in his thirties, really big. Driving an old brown Toyota. The cops are after him now.

The children lay silent in suspense, waiting for a lull in the wind to hear what their father was doing. He might hit their mother again... And then, came the horror of the sudden silence: silence everywhere, outside, and downstairs. What was it?- was it a silence of blood? What had he done.

At the bottom of the American soul was always a dark suspense, at the bottom of the Spanish-American soul the same. And this dark suspense hated and hates the old European spontaneity, watches it collapse with satisfaction.