Quotes About Monster

J'étais un enfant, ce monstre qu'ils fabriquent avec leurs regrets.

For horror to work, you have to be afraid. You have to keep the monster in a black and white light.

I first read 'The Lord of the Rings' as an adolescent. It's a dense novel, a sprawling, complex monster of a book populated with a prolific number of characters caught up in a narrative structure that, frankly, does not lend itself to conventional storytelling.

I miss my Dad. My Dad loved cheesy monster movies, so we'd have Godzilla movie marathons. Those are some of my favorite memories, laughing at how the monster outfits were so bad, like black garbage bags for heads.

So put your costume on, honey! Ruby said. Set Harlequin free! That party monster of yours is screaming to come out. Let the monster out!

Every true poet is a monster. He destroys people and their speech. His singing elevates a technique that wipes out the earth so we are not eaten by worms. The drunk sells his coat. The thief sells his mother. Only the poet sells his soul to separate it from the body that he loves.

You don't need to look like a monster to be one,' replied the Doctor.

It was the perfect set. Theseus gave a great war cry and brought his sword arcing up toward Sheba's throat - but the monster of the labyrinth lives inside us all. She is the dark, devouring hunger that is never sated, the creeping shadow that ever plays the fiend to our seraphim, the secret rage hidden in our hearts; deny her, and we become her slaves; fight her, and we make her invincible. By now, you must know that no monster can ever be killed, not really - […]

That's right," she said. "DIE, you little monster plants. May your roots always be thirsty and your seeds all meet a fiery death until you're extinct forever! I HATE you!

All right, enough. What do you know about this?" she demanded. "You're the only one who's been to the rainforest. Does it have some kind of monster?" She shook his snout, none too gently. "Stop drooping like a wet fern and tell us what you know." "Nuffing," Webs mumbled through Tsunami's grip.

He wished only to live as a free man upon the fruits of his labor, and grow old in the natural rhythms of the earth; instead of which he was cursed, so he felt, always to be an object of disgust, or horror, which is only disgust with a portion of fear superadded- always to be in the eyes of the world a monster.

madman and a monster.

Look at me! I roar. Do you think you'll be the first I've killed today? I wasn't a murderer, but you changed me. I'm a monster now. And I'm hungry. Meera! Anotoine whines. Prae! Please, I beg you. You're civilised people. Help me! We can't, Prae says coldly. Even if we wanted to - and personally I have no problem with him gutting you - we couldn't. He's not ours to control. He's one of your specimens. You helped create him - now you have to deal with him

After all, in this world of humans, he was little better than a monster, and what did a monster have to be afraid of in the dark?

I fear that even if it is beautiful in the abstract, that my doing it knowing that it's beautiful and worse, knowing that I will very soon be documenting it, that in my pocket is a tape recorder brought for just that purpose—that all this makes this act of potential beauty somehow gruesome. I am a monster.

Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.

Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban

Monster, I do smell all horse piss, at which my nose is in great indignation. (IV, 1, lines 223-224)

But there's a problem,' Dr. Bramble said. He tapped his forehed. 'And it's right up here.' Our greatest talent, he explained, also created the monster that could destroy us.

Tolkien has become a monster, devoured by his own popularity and absorbed into the absurdity of our time. The chasm between the beauty and seriousness of the work, and what it has become, has overwhelmed me. The commercialization has reduced the aesthetic and philosophical impact of the creation to nothing. There is only one solution for me: to turn my head away.

In the garden of Paradise, who was the monster and who was not? between the houses and apartments, and in the elevated spaces between the high buildings, in that hanging garden - who is, and who is not? how long can I stand not at least knowing what is looking at me? the raw roach is looking at me and its law sees mine

O Muse, sing to me of that sea-monster, Eurymedon's son, whose stomach, like a knife, fattens on all it finds. Tell of his dreadful end, and how by public order the town will stone him to death beside the sterile sea.

There's a monster in our wood. She'll get you if you're not good. Drag you under leaves and sticks. Punish you for all your tricks. Anest of hair and gnawed bone. You are never, ever coming... home.

And elsewhere in the woods, there is another party, one taking place inside a hollow hill, full of night-blooming flowers. There, a pale boy plays a fiddle with newly mended fingers while his sister dances with his best friend. There, a monster whirls about, branches waving in time with the music, There, a prince of the Folk takes up the mantle of king, embracing a changeling like a bother, and, with a human boy at his side, names a girl his champion.