Quotes About Murder

War is Mass Murder, Conscription is Slavery, Taxation is Robbery.

And, indeed, what is the State anyway but organized banditry? What is taxation but theft on a gigantic, unchecked, scale? What is war but mass murder on a scale impossible by private police forces? What is conscription but mass enslavement? Can anyone envision a private police force getting away with a tiny fraction of what States get away with, and do habitually, year after year, century after century?

the way of the "spirit of the depths" necessarily leads to the murder of the heroic.

The opposite of war is not peace but civilisation, and civilisation is purchased with violence and cold-blooded murder. With war.

I don't want any more murdered women in my family, Raphael." It came out a painful rasp. "I've had enough.

Sunshine. That's what she was. Sunshine. Bright. A thing of life. A thing that could burn. And this heart, it beat only for her. It could murder for her. For love. For Sunshine.

Maybe because there was a difference between the brutal but honest law of the wild, and cool, clear-eyed murder to increase the power of the very people most apt to misuse it.

When, in a desperate attempt to save their people from the twin scourges of murder and insanity, the Psy race decided to embrace the Silence Protocol and eliminate emotion from their lives, it was by no means an easy decision.

Even lovers of murder had a well-concealed romantic bone or two. Probably buried in the basement under two feet of concrete.

I rode toward Rudolfo Maldonado's house, planning to murder him before he got his morning shave.

Oglethorpe left the colony in 1743, never to return. Three years earlier, a soldier had attempted to murder him, the musket ball tearing through his wig. He survived, but his dream for Georgia died. Over the next decade, land tenure policies were lifted, rum was allowed to flow freely, and slaves were sold surreptitiously. In 1750, settlers were formally granted the right to own slaves.

In Khushwant Singh's Train to Pakistan, the bloody violence sweeping India after partition has not yet touched Mano Majra, a small village of Muslims and Sikhs on the India-Pakistan border. But in the summer of 1947, the murder of a Hindu moneylender and the arrival of a trainful of dead Sikhs set off a tragic chain of events.

In The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher, Kate Summerscale wrote of the murder of a boy Eldon's age, "Perhaps this is the purpose of detective investigations, real and fictional—to transform sensation, horror and grief into a puzzle, and then to solve the puzzle, to make it go away.

I wouldn't think it was an easy thing to stab someone in the chest. There are the ribs to get through, and one of the roles they play is to stop damage to vital organs beneath. Her killer had known what they were doing.

I had believed I was coming to a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere, and what I had discovered was a murder right in my bookshop and then a nest of vampires who ran a late-night book club.

Killing people is simple. All you have to do is forget the taste of sugar.

Ah, my dear," Aunt Jane smiles kindly, "the problem with that, you see, is that no one is ever the murdering sort until they are.

Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him'?" I whisper-quote like I'm dreaming. Then I shake my head. "I was in Macbeth

'Castle' is a guy living in a fantasy world. He's in his imagination, writing these stories of murder.

Her invitation wasn't to pleasure, but to struggle, hard and sharp, closer to murder than love. If you threw yourself on her, it would be like throwing yourself from the parapet of a skyscraper. You would do it with a scream. You couldn't expect to rise again. Your teeth would be driven into your skull like nails into a pine board and your back would be broken. You wouldn't even have time to sweat or close your eyes.

If a tree falls in the forest and kills your ex-wife, what do you do with the lumber?

She struck Darden as the kind whose corpse would kick you three days after you shot her.

It's so unreal and beastly.' 'Murder is beastly. Unfortunately it's not unreal.

They were fortified with all the resilience that youth presents to an emotional shock. In the midst of murder and attempted suicide, they had managed, not only to behave with address and good sense, but all to fall in love with each other.