Quotes About Terrible

There is a pleasure in being with them,' he says. 'Taking what we want, indulging in every terrible thought. There's safety in being awful.

Stick creatures, enormous and terrible, huge spiders made of brambles and branches. Monstrous things with gaping mouths, their bodies of burned and blackened bark, their teeth of stone and ice. Mortal body parts visibly part of them, as though someone took apart people like they were dolls and glued them back together in awful shapes.

He looks at me and blinks, as through a fog. 'This is an absolutely terrible idea,' he says with a kind of amazement in his voice.

For the first time, I see the panic on his face, the sort that he ought to have felt all along. Too late, and part of him knows it. But he denies it a moment later, the knowledge surfacing and being shoved back down. Some things seem too terrible to seem possible.

He looks up at me with his night-colored eyes, beautiful and terrible all at once. "For a moment," he says, "I wondered if it wasn't you shooting bolts at me." I make a face at him. "And what made you decide it wasn't?" He grins up at me. "They missed.

Because death is not tragic to them, not in the way it is to us,' I said. 'They mourn.' 'They feel sorrow, great sorrow. But it isn't tragic.' 'No, it isn't. They know their ancestors have a plan for them. There's no sense that it was wrong. Tragedy is based on this sense that there's been a terrible mistake, isn't it?

How much more of the taxpayers' money can I throw at this thing? An evil woman. A woman loved by nobody, missed by nobody, a woman with shards of ice in her heart. A case of child abuse where no evidence remains, where numerous people were in the house, where no records of any description exist for an entire six-year period of time, where a family of itinerants moved in and took over without anyone ever knowing. It's impossible. It's terrible.

Terrible, dreadful, blasted awful kids. They've all got a darkness inside them. They've all got the capacity of evil.

There's a lot of judges on TV in America. Apart from Judge Judy, the vast majority of them are terrible.

I'm Beanie, and I'm terrible in the kitchen, so I just need so much help. And I'm allergic to dairy, so vegan food is a love of mine.

Of course, that made it seem even worse: I had killed for room service. What a terrible, low creature I was. I wondered whether I should feel cheap and tawdry, or perhaps just jaded and callous. How much lower could I sink? I was already indifferent to the suffering of my victims, so I couldn't really try to make that fit a new and colder me, if there actually was one.

It was beautiful—in a terrible sort of way, of course. But still, the arrangement was perfect, compelling, beautifully bloodless.

He gave me his terrible phony smile, which looked like something he had learned to do by studying a government manual on facial expressions. "The ways of the jungle are hard, Grasshopper," he said.

Pure talent and charisma and like gods they were terrible together. Awful. A gorgeous nightmare.

Hatred is the spiritual malignancy of our species, and like any other form of cancer, does its most terrible work not outwardly, but from within us.

An effective way to deal with predators is to taste terrible.

Beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and devil are fighting there, and the battlefield is the heart of man.

Beauty! Terrible Beauty! A deathless Goddess-- so she strikes our eyes!

No debo preocuparme —dijo ella—. Mientras hay vida, hay esperanza. —Qué idea tan terrible

It is as though I were adrift, untethered. I don't think of her much, no more than I ever did, but something terrible is going on. At moments all is well, and then at others I think that I am flying apart.

He had been living in the dark world of his anxieties, and no infliction of reality could seem more terrible than that

Had I been a witness to a memory of hers so terrible that it could only be said to me, an eleven-year-old, half delirious with fever, lying in bed between darkness and light? My grandmother had spoken so emphatically that day, in clipped, deliberate speech, as if to say, 'This is a moment to listen.

It seemed that if you listened to that snow hissing long enough, you wouldn't just hear it telling you that it was waiting for you, you'd hear some terrible secret—a secret to turn your life black.

No rational response was possible. Her irrationality made it so. The terrible power, he thought, of illogic.