Something Killing Me Quotes & Sayings

Brother will kill brother, spill blood across the land. Killing for religion, something I don't understand. Fools like me who cross the sea and come to foreign lands, ask the sheep for their beliefs; 'Do you kill on God's command?' — Dave Mustaine

You have the skills," Chaol said, "but some of your moves are still undisciplined."
"That's never stopped me from killing before," she spat.
Chaol chuckled at her agitation and pointed his sword at the rack, allowing her to get to her feet. "Pick another - something different. Make it interesting, too. Something that will make me sweat, please."
"You'll be sweating when I skin you alive and squish your eyeballs beneath my feet," she muttered, picking up the rapier.
"That's the spirit."
She practically threw the rapier into place, and drew the hunting knives without hesitation.
My dear old friends.
A wicked smile spread across her face. — Sarah J. Maas

This was something I'd never been trained for. There were no military strategies or drills to prepare me for the daily torment of not killing someone. — Mary E. Pearson

If Gretchen had been feeling charitable she would have let me die ... I wanted to die. I was ready to die. If she had put a scalpel in my hand, I would have stabbed myself in the neck and happily bled to death right there in her basement. She didn't do me any favours by not killing me. Gretchen enjoys people's pain. And she just found a way to prolong my pain and her pleasure. Believe me, it was the cruellest thing she could have done to me. If she could have thought of something crueller she would have done it. Gretchen doesn't show people mercy. — Chelsea Cain

She told me once she envied the women who lived back in the good old days who only had to worry about Indians and mountain lions killing their husbands. Something about those things being beyond a wife's control. — Tawni O'Dell

ROSA MET ME at the door with a shotgun. Strictly speaking, not aimed at me, but you don't really have to aim a sawed-off shotgun. She swung it toward me. "You, get in there." She turned her attention to the crowd. "The rest of you will take a number and have a seat." Her paperwork skills might have been lousy, but her personal touch was something I aspired to. — J.C. Nelson

Guitar, none of that shit is going to change how I live or how any other Negro lives. What you're doing is crazy. And something else: it's a habit. If you do it enough, you can do it to anybody. You know what I mean? A torpedo is a torpedo, I don't care what his reasons. You can off anybody you don't like. You can off me."
"We don't off Negroes."
"You hear what you said? Negroes. Not Milkman. Not 'No, I can't touch you, Milkman,' but 'We don't off Negroes.' Shit, man, suppose you all change your parliamentary rules? — Toni Morrison

People told me to give up trying to be special and settle down to a regular life. There ain't nothing wrong with a regular life, and that's the Lord's truth ... But it wasn't for me, because I wanted to be something special ... I knew how easy it was for a dream to die. I seen that all around me. You could let it die by just looking the other way - you know, some of those Asian people say they don't kill nothing, but they'll take a fish out of water and lay it on the ground and then say it just died on its own - you can do that with a dream, too. And sometimes you can get so frustrated, you feel so bad about your dream, that you go on and kill it yourself. When you do that, you're killing a piece of yourself, too.
- Mr. Cephus — Walter Dean Myers

They made a major mistake," he blurted out, "the dumb bastards, when they didn't start by killing you first."
"Benjamin Thomas Parish, that was the sweetest and most bizarre compliment anyone's ever given me."
I kissed him on the cheek. He kissed me on the mouth.
"You know," I whispered, "a year ago, I would have sold my soul for that."
He shook his head. "Not worth it." And, for one-ten thousandth of a second, all of it fell away, the despair and grief and anger and pain and hunger, and the old Ben Parish rose from the dead. The eyes that impaled. The smile that slayed. In another moment, he would fade, slide back into the new Ben, the one called Zombie, and I understood something I hadn't before: He was dead, the object of my schoolgirl desires, just as the schoolgirl who desired him was dead. — Rick Yancey

Then maybe you can help me out with something. I need an armaments shop. I want to buy a sword. A really good one." Jace looked surprised, then amused. "What for?" "Oh, you know. Killing." Clary made a hand gesture she hoped conveyed her murderous intentions toward all things evil. — Cassandra Clare

I'd had more than my fair share of near-death experiences; it wasn't something
you ever really got used to.
It seemed oddly inevitable, though, facing death again. Like I really was marked
for disaster. I'd escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me.
Still, this time was so different from the others.
You could run from someone you feared, you could try to fight someone you
hated. All my reactions were geared toward those kinds of killers - the monsters,
the enemies.
When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could
you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your
life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it?
If it was someone you truly loved? — Stephenie Meyer

The Blue Fairy Godmother knew something about killing. He gave Lazzaro a careful smile. "There is still time for me to kill you," he said, "if you really persuade me that it's the sensible thing to do."
"Why don't you go fuck yourself?"
"Don't think I haven't tried," the Blue Fairy Godmother answered. — Kurt Vonnegut

Standing there small among the boxes of Kandy Kakes that rose like brownish cartoon cliffs around him, he resembled the videos I'd seen of sea lions floating angelically among the kelp, black bodies filmed from below, their shapes cut out in bright sunlight, bodies mistakable for those of a human being. I felt the memory of a shadowy arm around me, a watcher again, sitting there on the couch with my boyfriend, watching the animals become prey. Somewhere there were giant whales feeding on creatures too small to see, pressing them against fronds of baleen with a tongue the size of a sedan. There were polar bears killing seals, tearing ovoid chunks from out of their smooth, round bellies. In the surrounding vastness of the warehouse, I heard something scratching against the concrete floor and knew there were rats here, scraping a thin film of nutrient from the dry packaged matter that surrounded them. Life was everywhere, inescapable, imperative. — Alexandra Kleeman

I think you like other things better than me," he said on Gmail chat that night. "I mean generally you like things that aren't people. More than people. Like eating or sleeping or something. If you don't want to do something then just tell me and we don't have to be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, instead of just pretending or something."
"I want to be boyfriend and girlfriend," said Dakota Fanning. "I am learning. I know what to do."
"I don't understand when people don't do what they say they want to do."
"Me either," said Dakota Fanning. "That's why I don't understand myself or like myself."
"I still don't understand," said Haley Joel Osment.
"I'm killing myself," said Dakota Fanning. "Good night. — Tao Lin

Calm down. I'm a demon, Nick. Hematite doesn't like my genetics. It doesn't mean anything other than I have really bad parentage."
"Then why am I having flashes of you killing me?"
"What'd you eat this morning?"
Nick didn't care for that answer. Not one little bit. "I saw it happen. You were choking the life out of me."
Caleb rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah. That is definitely a figment of your overactive, over-Hollywood-stimulated imagination. I assure you. I don't kill people that way. Takes too long. I'm not into torture. I prefer a quick death so that I can move on to something more satisfying."
Strangely enough, that he believed. Patience wasn't a virtue Caleb practiced. "You sure?"
"Dude, look at me. You think I'd have let the demons pound all over me last night so that you could escape if I had any intention of killing you? Really? — Sherrilyn Kenyon

It's not knowing that's killing me. Not knowing if there's a chance that something can change, not knowing if there's hope at all. — Beth Revis

He was holding his right leg, but the blood soaked through his fingers and flowed over his hand onto his sleeve. Intuition had served me again this time: my kick had knocked his automatic out of his grasp a fraction of a second before he could press the trigger. The second kick was to his face. It sent him flying about six feet. I set my sights on his head, but something stopped me, one of our guys let out a yelp behind me. Another bullet whistled by right next to me. Apparently, this Mujahadeen was not the only one here. Again, I aimed at his head, but something again stopped me. I saw how his hands were trembling. I noticed the horror in his eyes. 'He is only a boy!' I thought and pressed the trigger. — Vladislav Tamarov

Donald Trump is talking about running for president. He hasn't made an announcement, but I want to tell you something. The fake suspense is killing me. — David Letterman

When I was in my 20s it did occur to me that there was something perverted about an attitude that thought that killing somebody was a minor offence compared to kissing somebody. — John McGahern

In my unfortunately infrequent encounters with real passion, I'm rarely as careful as I ought to be. The rationalization goes something like: With all the bullets and mortar rounds I've survived, I must be immune to sexually transmitted diseases. Stupid, I know. More likely, fate will indulge its taste for irony by killing me with AIDS os some other unpleasant alternative. — Barry Eisler

Many years ago, I was fishing, and as I was reeling in the poor fish, I realized, 'I am killing him?all for the passing pleasure it brings me.' And something inside me clicked. I realized as I watched him fight for breath, that his life was as important to him as mine is to me. — Paul McCartney

I've always been terrified of getting used to something that is actually killing me-a relationship or a job. But in those cases, you can count on a friend to say something. The Internet is different, because all my friends are in the same relationship. — Miranda July

Tell me something," Xcor drawled.
"Yes?"
"Is his piggish head still attached to that weak little body of his?"
Assail chuckled. "No."
"Do you know that is among my favorite ways of killing?"
"A warming for me, Xcor?
...
"No," he declared. "Just something we have in common. Fare thee well, Assail, for what is left of this night."
"Yourself as well. And in the words of our mutual acquaintance, I must needs go. Afore I am forced to slaughter the doggen butler who is pounding, at this very instant, upon the door I have locked."
Xcor threw his head back and laughed as he ended the call.
"You know," he said to his fighters, "I rather like him. — J.R. Ward

It's been three years since I graduated, and everyone's still waiting for me to do something spectacular," the stone prince said, lengthening his stride. "The rest of my classmates are already making names for themselves. George started killing dragons right away, and Art went straight home and pulled some sort of magic sword out of a rock. Even the ones nobody expected to amount to much have done something. All Jack wanted to do was go back to his mother's farm and raise beans, and he ended up stealing a magic harp and killing a giant and all sorts of things. I'm the only one who hasn't succeeded. — Patricia C. Wrede

Uhm, what floor do you want?" That was polite, right?
Adam snorted but Serena smiled, a wide grin on her face. "I think it's the fifteenth floor. But you're the one who works here, so you might know better than me."
God, he was such a dumbass. He was so much better when he was just killing something. — Lexi Blake

There's something simmering inside of me. Something I've never dared to tap into, something I'm afraid to acknowledge. There's a part of me clawing to break free from the cage I've trapped it in, banging on the doors of my heart, begging to be free. Begging to let go. Every day I feel like I'm reliving the same nightmare. I open my mouth to shout, to fight, to swing my fists, but my vocal cords are cut, my arms are heavy and weighted down as if trapped in wet cement and I'm screaming but no one can hear me, no one can reach me and I'm caught. And it's killing me. I've always had to make myself submissive, subservient, twisted into a pleading, passive mop just to make everyone else feel safe and comfortable. My existence has become a fight to prove I'm harmless, and I'm not a threat, that I'm capable of living among other human beings without hurting them. And I'm so tired I'm so tire I'm so tired I'm so tired and sometimes I get so angry. I don't know what's happening to me. — Tahereh Mafi

Christian looked at him earnestly. "Does it look OK?" The cut had been impulsive, which wasn't something Christian was, really. But Eddie stopped fussing and looked like he was raging some internal battle. "Chrissy, you're killing me here. I'll say this only once, so listen clearly. You're beautiful. Not in a 'Christina Aguilera power song' kind of way, but in a male model, hot boy fantasy kind of way. Now, don't ask me again, or I'll make a fool of myself. — Micaela Vee

No matter how inflexibly the world was clamoring for war and heroism, honor and other outmoded ideals, no matter how remote and unlikely every voice that apparently spoke up for humanity sounded, all of that was merely superficial, just as the question of the external and political aims of the war remained superficial. Deep down, something was evolving. Something like a new humanity. Because I could see people, and a number of them died alongside me, who had gained the new emotional insight that hatred and rage, killing and destroying, were not linked to the specific objects if that rage. No, the objects, just like the aims, were completely accidental. Those primal feelings, even the wildest of them, weren't directed against the enemy; their bloody results were merely an outward materialization of people's inner life, the split within their souls, which desired to rage and kill, destroy and die, so that they could be reborn. — Hermann Hesse

A while ago?" Anaxantis asked. "Yes, he raped me a while ago. Exactly nine months and two days ago. What's that? Nine months or nine minutes. It's the same. And it is in the past, you say? Then why is it still happening, every day, every time I close my eyes? Every time I hear someone behind me, and I don't know who it is? How is it that I get an almost irresistible urge to kill anyone who happens to touch me unexpectedly? Tell me, Hemarchidas, how do I forgive, let alone forget, something that is still happening, that keeps happening over and over? How? How do I do that? — Andrew Ashling

In a funny way it's almost fun, having everything be so fucked up and managing to adjust. I guess you might say I'm proud. Proud of me, proud of my friends for managing to deal with this thing so well. For most people this would be the end of the world. They'd panic, their friends would panic. Things would get trampled in the stampede. But we've kept our heads, made the necessary allowances, ad can just ride this thing out.

I'm pretty much just putting in time waiting for this cloud to blow over. Waiting for something to come along to make some sense out of all this. Killing time, waiting for some sort of cavalry to come over the hill. There's really not an awful lot I can do but wait. As long as there's no panic, we can hold out for damn near forever. — Mark Vonnegut

with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because
it's all I have,
because I'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this
bullet inside me
'cause I couldn't make you love me and I'm tired of pulling your teeth. — Richard Siken

Stop saying things like that! You can't ... tell me all of that and then walk off like it's no big deal! You're killing me ... Offer me something or offer me nothing,
but stop trying to play both sides. — Tiffany Snow

Tell me something. Why is everyone so determined to believe Wilton is innocent?"
Surprised, Davies said, "He's a war hero isn't he? Admired by the King and a friend of the Prince of Wales. He's visited Sandringham, been received by Queen Mary herself! A man like that doesn't go around killing people!"
With a wry downturn of his lips, Rutledge silently asked, How did he win his medals, you fool, if not by being so very damned good at killing? — Charles Todd

What's with all the running, anyway? I mean, I realize the importance of stamina and all that, but shouldn't I be moving on to something with a little hitting? They're still killing me in group practice."
"Maybe you should hit harder. — Richelle Mead

Uh, got into a fight with the kitchen or something?" he asked, smirking.
I ran my hands through my hair and felt remains of the fruit as I did and cringed. Well, this must be attractive. I motioned for him to come into the living room and shut the door behind him.
"Something like that," I replied coolly.
He walked past me and went to the kitchen, probably to get a better look. "Well, I see you won. The fruit won't be going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe the apples. Those look like they need some more killing. — Christie Cote

Think about what it is you're after."
"Understanding," she said slowly.
"Good," Bill said. "What else?"
A nervous energy was coursing through her, as if she was on the brink of something important. "I want to find out why Daniel and I were cursed. And I want to break that curse.I want to stop love from killing me so that we can finally be together-for real."
"Whoa,whoa,whoa." Bill started waving his hands like a man stranded on the side of a dark road. "Let's not get crazy. This is a very long-standing damnation you're up againat here. You and Daniel,it's like ... I don't know, you can't just snap your pretty little fingers and break out of that. You gotta start out small. — Lauren Kate

Golfers who play a lot of courses often encounter short ledges or retaining walls, and I always had fun hopping down from them. I could jump off something six feet high and land like a cat, no problem. Well, today I can't jump off anything higher than two feet without it just killing me. — Tom Watson

They came close. Oh they came close. Was all set to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger. But there was a computer glitch. Isnt that something? A stupid glitch and I had to wait a few days and then I saw the errors of my ways, saw so clearly that I was killing the wrong person. Its not me that needs killing, its them. Funny how things can change in the wink of an eye. — Hubert Selby Jr.

I've always enjoyed a challenge," Niko remarked, shifting through the powder to lift something out. "I think perhaps there are other things I could enjoy instead. Bonsai trees, painting, forging my own weapons. The opportunities are endless." He opened his hand to show me the small braid of several yellowed hairs. "Voodoo." "Think it would work?" I perked up. Killing from a distance wasn't usually my thing, but in this case, I'd make an exception. — Rob Thurman

Rose Hathaway: "what's with all the running, anyway? I mean, I realize the importance of stamina and all that, but shouldn't I be moving on to something with a little hitting? They're still killing me in group practice."
Dimitri Belikov: "Maybe you should hit harder. — Richelle Mead

Maybe I find him ... interesting. Attractive in an uptight sort of way. But that won't keep me from killing him if he does something stupid - like try to double-cross us. That is something thats nonnegotiable, no matter how much fuck potential he might have. — Jennifer Estep

The fact that Ridge has been honest in his conversations with me is not something he did wrong. The fact that he has feelings for me also isn't wrong, when you know exactly how much he's fought those feelings. People can't control matters of the heart, Warren.
They can only control their actions, which is exactly what Ridge did. He lost control once for ten seconds, but after that, every single time temptation reared its ugly head, he walked in the other direction. The only thing Ridge has done wrong is fail to delete his messages, because by doing so, he failed to protect Maggie. He failed to protect her from the harsh truth that people don't get to choose who they fall in love with. They only get to choose who they stay in love with." I look up at the ceiling and blink back tears. "He was choosing to stay in love with her, Warren. Why can't she see that? This will kill him so much more than it's killing her. — Colleen Hoover

To write a novel is fundamentally an act of impudence. To comb one's hair is also an act of impudence, especially when it's done to try to cover a scar running across the top of one's forehead. But combing one's hair is an act of minor impudence, whereas writing is a more serious affair. We mask reality, we hide our fears, we reinvent things that have been said, and above all, the people who said them. Writing a novel implies a certain perversity. It's not something one can do with a tortoiseshell comb. It is perhaps for that reason that they take away my pen at night. Not, as they pretend, to prevent me from accidentally stabbing myself in the throat with it- but to prevent me from killing anyone else. — Paco Ignacio Taibo II

The multicolored kitten snuggled between her breasts.
Lucky cat.
"I thought maybe something like ... Sweetums."
"What? That's a wussy name. She'd totally get her ass kicked by all the other neighborhood cats. You can't call her ... that. See I can't even say it. It's too ridiculous."
Abby chuckled, and the sound drifted over him like a warm breeze.
"I suppose you want me to call her Rowdy, or Bullet or Chainsaw," she said.
"Those aren't bad." He liked it when she teased him. "Maybe you could name her something like Flash, or Blaze, or Storm.
"Or maybe I could call her pooty pie."
"Oh my God." He slapped his forehead. "You're killing me. You'd be better off sticking with Sweetums."
"Ha!" She pointed her finger at him. "You said it." Before he could wrap his hand around that finger and pull her against him, he gave the kitten-who purred contentedly between Abby's breasts-a rub between the ears.
Lucky damn cat. — Candis Terry

When he came down, he was slower, and clutching something his hand. He leapt down the last 5 feet or so and came over to me, uncurling his fingers. In his palm was something trembling and silky and the bright, delicious pale gold of apples; in the gloom of the jungle it looked like light itself. Uva nudged the thing with a finger and it turned over, and I could see it was a monkey of some sort, though no monkey I had ever seen before; it was only a few inches larger than one of the mice I had once been tasked with killing, and his face was a wrinkled black heart, its features pinched together but its eyes large and as blankly blue as a blind kitten's. It had tiny, perfectly formed hands, one of which was gripping its tail, which it had wrapped around itself and which was flamboyantly furred, its hair hanging like a fringe. — Hanya Yanagihara

There's something very ... spiritual about fighting. It's physically very challenging. It's for killing people, after all, so it's taught me how to look at something head on. It's like living - confronting something. Everything for me came from films. — Rinko Kikuchi

You're really going to do it, aren't you? You're really going to go back to war?" Gregor said. He could feel something boiling up inside of him. "So, we'll just forget about what happened. The jungle, the Firelands, the Bane." His voice was rising and he could feel the rager side of him taking over. "Forget about everybody who's dead! Tick and Twitchtip and Hamnet and Thalia and Ares! And your parents, Luxa! And your pups, Ripred! Let's just forget about everybody who gave their lives so that you could have this moment where you could - could make things right again! So you could stop the killing! We were fighting for the same thing, remember? You two owe each other your lives! You owe me your lives! And now you stand there and ask me to choose between you? To help you kill each other?" Gregor yanked Sandwich's sword from his belt and swung it so violently that even Luxa and Ripred stepped back. "Well, guess what? The warrior's not fighting for either of you! — Suzanne Collins

Cole kissed me.. It was the sort of kiss that would take a long time to recover from. You could take each of our kisses, from the very first moment we'd met and put them on a slide in a microscope, and I was pretty sure what you'd find. Even an expert would see nothing on the first one, and then on the next one, the start of something - mostly outnumbered, easily destroyed - and then more and more until finally this one, something that even the untrained eye could spot. Evidence that we'd probably never be cured of each other, but we might be able to keep it from killing us. — Maggie Stiefvater

When I think back on it, it was as if I had the Claw already, more than a year before I got it. I can't describe how he looked when he rolled his eye up to see me. He touched my heart. I never revived an animal when I had the Claw, but then I never tried. When I was among them, I was usually wishing I could kill one, because I wanted something to eat. Now I'm no longer sure that killing animals to eat is something we are meant to do. — Gene Wolfe

This isn't animal experimentation, where you an imagine some proportionate good at the other end of the suffering. This is what we feel like eating. Tell me something: Why is taste, the crudest of our sense, exempted from the ethical rules that govern our other sense? If you stop and think about it, it's crazy. Why doesn't a horny person has as strong a claim to raping an animal as a hungry one does to killing and eating it? — Jonathan Safran Foer

If you have felt that way," said Juliet, "how can you despise her?"

"I still don't understand why you have suddenly decided that we don't all deserve death and suffering," said Runajo. "How recently did you tell me that we lived in a charnel house?"

Through the bond, she felt something like a flinch from Juliet. Then there was silence, and the sense of a wall between them.

After several moments, Juliet said quietly, "I do not - perhaps - wish to see you dead."

"That's boring and inconstant," said Runajo. "If we deserve death, then wish us dead. Don't indulge in half measures and wish us alive to keep on killing. — Rosamund Hodge

Because it was the right thing?"
"Oh shit, I hope not."
"Afraid of becoming noble?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.
"That too. But basically, that's the worst reason I can think of for killing. 'That its the right thing to do'. You kill out of outrage or fury or to keep from dying or something like it, that's fine. Hell, kill them rather than bother with them - or be bothered by them. But if you're killing them because 'its the right thing to do', its only the right thing because you've done so many wrong things up until then to make that spot. It's not the right thing to do. It's the best of the last of your choices."
"That's the longest I've ever heard you talk at one time."
"That's because you never ask me about my hair. — John Steakley

No, that can't be so.' 'Believe me, it is. All kinds of things you told them like sunsets are good and killing small birds is bad.' 'Oh please, may I have said something less banal. Please! — Maeve Binchy

It must be very tiring for the Consort," Lorelei said next to me.
[ ... ]
"Perhaps a mount could be brought ... ?" Lorelei suggested.
Out of a corner I saw both Barabas and George freeze. Yes, I know I've been insulted. Settle down. "Thank you for your concern. I can manage."
"Please, it's no trouble at all. You could hurt yourself. I know that even something minor like a twisted ankle would present a big problem for a human ... "
Do not punch the pack princess; do not punch the pack princess ...
"We wouldn't want you to struggle to keep up."
Okay, she went too far. I gave her a nice big smile.
Curran's face snapped into a neutral expression. "We just got here, baby. It's too early for you to start killing people. — Ilona Andrews

I thought the assassin was moving kind of slow for an assassin. Maybe the magic had done something after all. Or maybe he felt sorry for me. That sort of thing happens among cutthroats more often than you'd expect. — Cassandra Rose Clarke

what was going on and was sitting up expecting him. Zeus waved McKenna and Ostin over. Ostin took McKenna by the arm and helped her across the hallway into Ian's cell. "I saw you do something to this," Ian said, touching the RESAT. "I can disable it," Ostin said. "Then do it," Ian said. "It's killing me." Ostin attached the wires from his RESAT to Ian's, then began unfastening the buckles. Ian slipped the box off, groaning in relief. "Thanks, man. I owe you." Ostin began dissecting the RESAT. "You're welcome." "And for saving McKenna." Ian — Richard Paul Evans