Quotes About Devoured

Rigga, Riggalai the Seer, the wax-witch who trapped souls in candles and burned them. Souls devoured in flame—

The pillars were covered in representations of serpents, most of which were winged. Others were half human or half Grigori; a woman's torso rising from a thick ophidian coil; a man with twin snakes for legs whose gaping maw devoured a child with a viper's head.

Sorrow and helplessness join the pity party, and I despise both. These emotions are not innocent, but deadly. They devoured my past, eating at my happiness until nothing remained; i can't cede my present or my future, too.

I shall not attempt here to describe my marriage. Some impression of it will doubtless emerge. For the present story, its general nature rather than its detail is important. It was not a success. At first I saw her as a life-bringer. Then I saw her as a death-bringer. Some women are like that. There is a sort of energy which seems to reveal the world: then one day you find you are being devoured. Fellow victims will know what I mean. Possibly I am a natural bachelor.

I didn't get a formal introduction to horror until right about the age of 12, when my uncle showed me 'Twilight Zone: The Movie.' When you're 12 years old, and you see that - oh, God. I devoured as many horror movies and novels as possible.

Do not look for my heart any more; the beasts have eaten it.

Stress is like high blood pressure; a silent killer that rusts you from the inside out until you're nothing more than a husk of whatever it is you were before stress devoured you.

It was never part of how I imagined my music, and I watched in awe at how this ukulele troubadour image suddenly devoured the Jens Lekman I had planned so carefully.

My heart is lost; the beasts have eaten it.

But now he was little more than a whimpering oyster led to be devoured on the sands of a Southern sea by the artful walrus, Circumstance, and the implacable carpenter, Fate.

little more than a whimpering oyster led to be devoured on the sands of a Southern sea by the artful walrus, Circumstance, and the implacable carpenter, Fate.

Memories, so sweet and so bitter...they had both nourished and devoured him for so many years.

It is infinitely better to transplant a heart than to bury it to be devoured by worms.

Ernest Wolf (1988) explains that "merger-hungry" personalities need to control others completely. The borderline Witch's merger-hungry personality leaves her children feeling devoured, suffocated, oppressed, and imprisoned. Even as adults, her children may dream about prison camps, holocausts, invasions, wars, and natural disasters. They fear for their survival.

And Quentin had never known how the Maze was redrawn over the summer, but apparently every year in June the groundskeeper goaded the topiary animals into such a feeding frenzy that they fell upon and devoured each other in a kind of ghastly slow-motion vegetarian holocaust.

Because I am about to be devoured by poodles," I quip. "Remember me always, my love.

soul." "There cannot be," said Ravan. "A person cannot be Devoured by their own soul. It would be like being murdered by life.

Ideas devour the ages as men are devoured by their passions. When man is cured, human nature will cure itself perhaps.

As an individual who undertakes to live by borrowing, soon finds his original means devoured by interest, and next no one left to borrow from--so must it be with a government.

As her gentle voice continued, Rhys had the sensation of floating, the red tide of fever easing. How strange and lovely it was to lie here half dozing in her arms, possibly even better than fucking... but that thought led to the indecent question of what it might be like with her... how she might lie quietly beneath him while he devoured all that petal softness and vanilla sweetness... and slowly he fell asleep in Lady Helen's arms.

Isana had never understood men who made it a point to put trophies of their hunts on the walls. Gaius's study, its walls lines with the carcasses of books he had torn open and devoured, reminded her of nothing so much as old Aldo's hunting lodge, back in the Calderon Valley, and she thought it only marginally less boastful.

They'd evaded the monster. Instead, it had devoured a frightened child.

Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. That night I wrote in my journal: "Trees are schizophrenic now and beginning to lose control, enraged with the shock of their fiery new colors. Someone—was it van Gogh?—said that orange is the color of insanity. Beauty is terror. We want to be devoured by it, to hide ourselves in that fire which refines us.

He's picked clean! Eaten by cats!