Quotes About Ominous

ROSS I hear a kind of … rushing sound, like a … wooooosh!, or … wings, or something. MARTIN It's probably the Eumenides.

Y cuando es de noche, siempre, una tribu de palabras mutiladas busca asilo en mi garganta para que no canten ellos, los funestos, los dueños del silencio.

When we were growing up the Barrowland was ominous. It had closed down. It was synonymous with Bible John.

When I awoke the next morning I looked out at a landscape blotted out by mist and the first thought that came to me was, I wonder who is going to be killed today?

there was very little doubt in my mind that the world was headed for grief.

I gave her my deluxe I'll-Kill-You-Later stare.

Far, far below, red liquid bubbled. Blood? Lava? Evil ketchup? None of the posibilities were good.

Me? I slept like the dead, which I hoped wasn't a sign of things to come.

Bast crouched down and began making weird chittering noises. Uh-oh. She was imitating birds. I'd seen enough cats do this when they were stalking. Suddenly my own obituary flashed in my head: Carter Kane, 14, tragically died in Paris wen he was eaten by his sister's cat, Muffin.

Very well. But I have warned you. In this pages, only suffering awaits.

Bad was here, and worse was coming.

The hounds will come to Cainsville and when they do, you'll wish you made a very different choice today

Something happened in the shed," I blurted it without thinking. "What?" I laughed uneasily. "That didn't sound good, did it? Cue the ominous music." I shook my head. "Never mind. It was silly.

Come, seeling night,Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day,And with thy bloody and invisible handCancel and tear to pieces that great bondWhich keeps me pale! Light thickens, and the crowMakes wing to the rooky wood.

Then be thou jocund. Ere the bat hath flownHis cloister'd flight, ere, to black Hecate's summonsThe shard-borne beetle with his drowsy humsHath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be doneA deed of dreadful note.

When Fortune means to men most good,She looks upon them with a threatening eye.

It wasn't so much the fear of Los Escorpiones as the fact he could not see them. He could not hear them. He felt them like prickles of ice walking on spider feet over his skin. He sensed them in the hairs at the nape of his neck. He tasted the fear of those surrounding him, and an answering…something…in the darkness.

Maybe there's a more ominous phrase in the English language than "We need to talk." Perhaps "Michael Corleone says hello." Or maybe "I'm afraid the test results are back." But right now what Laurie just said is enough to send spasms of panic through my gut.

Shitload said, "His name is Korrok the Slavemaster from the eighth plane, also known in some realms as Baa'aaa'aaa'aab and in others as the Lord Zanthk All-Bzzki'l Shadd'uuul'l L'luuu'ddahs L'ikzzb-lla Khtnaz.

I am afraid of Mr. Powell. I am more afraid of him than I have ever been of shadows or the thunder or when you look through the little bubble in the glass of the window in the upstairs hall and all of the out-of-doors stretches and twists its neck.

And I saw that all my life I had known that this was going to happen, and that I'd been afraid for a long time, I'd been afraid for a long time. There's fear, of course, with everybody. But now it had grown, it had grown gigantic; it filled me and it filled the whole world.

A darkness different from Ember's, but just as frightening...

Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.

Estaba reteoscuro, mi coronel —dijo el de la voz quejumbrosa.