Quotes About Monsters

There was darkness, and monsters vast as worlds swam in it.

Érase una vez una niña que creció entre monstruos. Pero los ángeles incendiaron las puertas hacia su mundo, y ella quedó completamente sola.

All the bogeymen together, sitting down to tea.

Beautiful and full of monsters?" "All the best stories are.

Feltetted-e valaha magadnak a kérdést, hogy a szörnyek csinálják a háborút, vagy a háború csinálja a szörnyeket?

Alguien dijo una vez: "No luches contra monstruos, no sea que te conviertas en uno de ellos. Y si miras largo tiempo al abismo, el abismo también mirará dentro de ti

Har du någonsin frågat dig om det är monster som skapar krig eller kriget som skapar monster? (s. 115).

Nu te lupta cu monstrii , ca sa nu devii tu insusi monstru, caci daca privesti in prapastie, si prapastia priveste in tine , de asemenea.

Te-ai intrebat vreodata , monstrii dac razboi sau razboiul ii face pe monstri?

Hayat?m kandan ibaret çünkü bütün dünyam canavarlarla dolu.

Det var vetskapen, som legat begravd inuti henne , som monster i en grop. Men monstren var döda och kunde inte göra någon illa. Vetskapen, däremot, kunde slita henne i stycken. I alla fall hennes förstånd (s. 241).

He can't see it. It is a condition of monsters that they do not perceive themselves as such. The dragon, you know, hunkered in the village devouring maidens, heard the townsfolk cry "Monster!" and looked behind him.

I know there are monsters on this earth,' said Tessa. 'You cannot tell me otherwise. I have seen them.

What kind of monster could possibly hate chocolate?" - Will Herondale

He cut her off with brutal precision. "And one last thing." His eyes flicked toward the door, through which Jace, Alec, and Isabelle had disappeared. "Keep in mind that when your mother fled from the Shadow World, it wasn't the monsters she was hiding from. Not the warlocks, the wolf-men, the Fair Folk, not even the demons themselves. It was them. It was the Shadowhunters.

Are you the only human in the world then? And all of the rest of us monsters?

Are you kind enough, on your little planet, not to shut that rhythm down? Not to crush underfoot the singers of songs and tellers of tales and wearers of silk? Because it's monsters who do that. Who extinguish art. Who burn books. Who ban music. Who yell at anyone with ears to turn off that racket. Who cannot see outside themselves clearly enough to sing their truth to the heavens. Do you have enough goodness in your world to let the music play? Do you have soul?

I'll put this in words you can understand: humans are hideous, pain-guzzling, pollution-spouting space monsters who might threaten our way of life.

Monsters, you know, cannot appreciate the niceties of commandments carved in stone.

humans are hideous, pain-guzzling, pollution-spouting space monsters

It is not the slumber of reason that engenders monsters, but vigilant and insomniac rationality.

This intensely lyrical vision of the pregant woman in [i]Hope I[i] is set in an ambiguous context peopled with masks, death's heads and allegorical monsters such as Sin, Disease, Poverty and Death, all threatening the incipient life.

Literature is humanity's broad-minded alter-ego, with room in its heart for monsters, even for you. It's humanity without the judgement.

I am able to play monsters well. I understand monsters. I understand madmen.