Quotes About Foreboding

We are one long frightening climax.

Something bad was going to happen. My wife was being clever again

Something bad was going to happen.

And yet, I felt it too: the house. Not necessarily malevolent, but...mindful. I could feel it studying me, does that make sense? It crowded me. One day, I was wiping down the floorboards, and suffered a sudden, slicing pain in my middle finger - as if I'd been bitten - and when I pulled it away, I was bleeding. I wrapped my finger tightly in one of my spare rags and watched the blood seep through. And I felt like something in the house was pleased.

Wow, someone walk over your grave?

Whenever possible, Libby prophesized doom.

In many cases your imagination is much more effective than what can be shown. It primes you to know something is about to happen - the anticipation and anxiety is worse than what ends up happening.

Have you ever gotten the feeling that you aren't completely embarassed yet, but you glimpse tomorrow's embarrassment?

I think most of my films all have a certain tone or intensity in them. They are tense, and you kind of anticipate some kind of catastrophe, but you're not quite sure.

En las calles tampoco se notaba nada. Business as usual. Pero en el aire flotaba aún la sensación del acercamiento estruendoso de lo desconocido...

Die Prophezeiung muss grauenvoll gewesen sein", sagte Arina, um nach einer Weile hinzuzufügen. "Die Zeiten damals waren sehr schwer." "Leichte Zeiten gibt es nicht", stellte Fan klar.

She is coming all out in …" He turned to her. "What is the word, my love? Swan skin?" "Gooseflesh, I believe he means," Sophia explained.

Sometimes the day begins with nothing to look forward to...

Dear God . . . the dread hour is nigh." - Jace Wayland

When it comes down to it, glam rock was all very amusing. At the time, it was funny, then a few years later it became sort of serious-looking and a bit foreboding.

and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched of human beings.

I dared not advance, dreading a thousand nameless evils that made me tremble, although I was unable to define them.

We're going to die, Keith said, the moment he was gone. This man is a serial killer. We're going to die, and he's going to bury us in his garden and build a shed on us.

On the hill behind her crows flew one by one into the bare trees, arranging their dark blots in the scrim of branches and adding their warnings to the drear sounds of this day. Gone, gone, they rasped. Here was a dead world learning to speak in dissonant, unbearable sounds.

Something in his nature just did not expect good things in store.

It was that kind of story. The kind that's like a sneeze which threatens but never quite arrives.

Nevertheless an inarticulate foreboding troubled her. The high clouds cast vague shadows across the wildflowers, transforming them from vividness to uncertainty and back again; shedding mute premonitions across the basin.

Menacing lines of black tomorrows on the horizon.

hung over her like a heavy black cloud that would soon unleash a storm.