Wanted For Murder Quotes & Sayings

If you wanted to kill me, why haven't you smothered me in my sleep?" "No sport in that." She gestured towards the ceiling. "Can I expect to be strung up on that bar and gutted like a deer?" He looked up at the bar and frowned. "Too much sport. Lots of heave-hoeing. Big mess to clean up after. Instead, why don't you just drink the poison-laced whiskey?" He extended the glass toward her again and when she didn't move he said, "No? Okay then." He shot the drink. She might not want the edge taken off but he sure as hell did. — Sandra Brown

When I say I'll murder my baby's mother, maybe I wanted to but I didn't. Anybody who takes it literally is 10 times sicker than I am. — Eminem

You're the only girl I want. Even though you burst into my room and beat me up. I'm sorry I didn't give you the answers you wanted, but you looked like you were going to murder someone and I thought it might be me. — Mimi Strong

I started writing in my 20s. I just wanted to write, but I didn't have anything to write about, so in the beginning, I wrote entertainments - mainly murder mysteries. — Alan Furst

The town was more than ready to accept the window dressing that hid the ugly truth of Joe's guilt. Some shared the secrets and kept the silence. Others would not have believed if they had been told. They would not have wanted to know. As those who saw and ignored the smoke from the crematoria of Hitler's Germany, they did not want to know that their world was not as it seemed. — Judith Spencer

How you can argue with those who whip, stone and murder people because they wanted to live their life? — M.F. Moonzajer

Listen to yourself. Poor martyred Louisa. I predict that Fellows will solve this murder and then sweep you off your feet." Daniel shrugged. "Well, the sweeping-you-off-your-feet part might take a little nudge. But he wants to do it. It's a beautiful thing to watch the way he looks at you. Fellows glared at Gil tonight as though he wanted to find a claymore, learn how to use it, and finish him off. Or just pull out a pistol and shoot him. — Jennifer Ashley

Who's they?" He wanted to know. "Who, specifically, do you think is trying to murder you?"
"Every one of them," Yossarian told him.
"Every one of whom?"
"Every one of whom do you think?"
"I haven't any idea."
"Then how do you know they aren't?"
"Because ... " Clevinger sputtered, and turned speechless with frustration.
Clevinger really thought he was right, but Yossarian had proof, because strangers he didn't know shot at him with cannons every time he flew up into the air to drop bombs on them, and it wasn't funny at all. — Joseph Heller

And what is your current complaint?"
I don't like Barrayar, I want to go home, my father-in-law wants to murder my baby, half my friends are running for their lives, and I can't get ten minutes alone with my husband, whom you people are consuming before my eyes, my feet hurt, my head hurts, my soul hurts ...
It was all too complicated. The poor man just wanted something to put in his blank, not an essay.
"Fatigue," Cordelia managed at last. — Lois McMaster Bujold

I wanted to kill the me underneath. That fact haunted my days and nights. When you realize you hate yourself so much, when you realize that you cannot stand who you are, and this deep spite has been the motivation behind your behavior for many years, your brain can't quite deal with it. It will try very hard to avoid that realization; it will try, in a last-ditch effort to keep your remaining parts alive, to remake the rest of you. This is, I believe, different from the suicidal wish of those who are in so much pain that death feels like relief, different from the suicide I would later attempt, trying to escape that pain. This is a wish to murder yourself; the connotation of kill is too mild. This is a belief that you deserve slow torture, violent death. — Marya Hornbacher

It's midnight!" he says frantically, slapping at the door. "Call her. Call your roommate!"
"Oh, shit," I mutter. I retrieve my phone and begin to dial Emory's number.
"I was about to dial 911," Emory says as she answers.
"Sorry, we almost forgot."
"Do you need to use the code word?" she asks.
"No, I'm fine. I already locked him out, so I don't think he's going to murder me tonight."
Emory sighs. "That sucks," she says. "Not that he didn't murder you," she adds quickly. "I just really wanted to hear you say the code word."
I laugh. "I'm sorry my safety disappoints you."
She sighs again. "Please? Just say it for me one time."
"Fine," I say with a groan. "Meat dress. Are you happy?"
There's a quiet pause before she says, "I don't know. Now I'm not sure if you said the code word just to make me happy or if you're really in danger. — Colleen Hoover

I loved her- I always loved her- no matter what she was-I wanted her safe- not shut up- a prisoner for life, eating her heart out. And we did keep her safe- for many years
Phillip Stark — Agatha Christie

For years I've wanted to write a book about mummies, and had been following the science of mummy CT scans when the premise for 'The Keepsake' occurred to me: what if an 'ancient' mummy turns out to have a bullet in its leg? How does a modern murder victim get turned into a mummy? — Tess Gerritsen

The phone rang. I picked it up.
"Are you sitting down?" Curran's voice asked.
"Yes."
"Good."
Click.
I listened to the disconnect signal. If he wanted me to sit, then I'd stand. I got up. The chair got up with me and I ended up bent over my desk, with the chair stuck to my butt. I grabbed the edge of the chair and tried to pull it off.
It remained stuck.
I would murder him. Slowly. And I'd enjoy every second of it. — Ilona Andrews

She swallows, then adds in a horrified whisper, "I wanted you to make Jason Kim bleed. A lot."
I blink, surprised. And pleased, though I know I shouldn't be. I'm supposed to be turning Ariel away from her dark side, not indulging her taste for bloodshed. But then, I didn't really believe she had one. She seems so good to me. At least, most of the time. When she isn't trying to commit murder/suicide by driving a car off the road or proclaiming her undying hatred. — Stacey Jay

Firing a manager inspired only the ambitious who wanted to take his or her place. But murder motivated everyone. It belonged in every supervisor's tool kit. — John Jackson Miller

I really wanted to write an adventure story, a murder-mystery that was set during the gold-rush years in New Zealand. — Eleanor Catton

After further introductions were made, we settled in the family room. Yes, the living room would have been nicer, but I wanted comfortable surroundings while plotting to murder one famed historical figure with another one.
~Cat — Jeaniene Frost

He wanted me to be clean, and I'd sullied myself, debased myself, not with sex but violence. I was supposed to be his escape, and I'd walked into a trap where I was empowered to commit murder. — Pepper Winters

I wanted to thank Trent, but all I could do was give him a faint smile before I lost consciousness. Everything had worked flawlessly.
I had planned the perfect murder - my own. — Terry Lovett

The woman was finally done, and Beatrix reached for a magazine. There were always German magazines lying around here, Vogue was extremely rare; who wanted to read German magazines, anyway? Twin Murders in Stuttgart. Certainly an awful place, it even sounded like murder. Sex in Germany. That was probably even worse. — Ingeborg Bachmann

Tad they were too young to die ... My Mom was a spitfire - a total accident waiting to happen. I'm like her - I can trip over nothing." Tad chuckled acknowledging the thought. "My father ... he was more serious. He used to give me lectures like no tomorrow, he had a strong sense of who I should be - who I wanted to be and how to guide me, and he was my best friend. It seems like everything I love is just out of my reach now. — Cassandra Giovanni

Rage had consumed her. She hadn't wanted to just murder him. She had wanted to empty her gun into his chest. And then she wanted to fill the holes with burning oil and dance in his still-warm blood. She had felt dead inside. — Karin Slaughter

Even though Sam wasn't a romance author, he knew all the big ones, the heavy hitters and those that had crossed genres. He was greeted by most of the authors, some he knew and others who wanted to meet the famous author. Needless to say the romance genre remained comprised mostly by women authors. Sam stuck out like a rooster in a hen house. A tall, handsome, cool rooster in black jeans, his sunglasses hooked off the pocket of his pale blue oxford shirt. A rooster with a flock of hens following his every move. — Carolyn Gibbs

I did not ask for consciousness, yet it came to me.
And I had to know.
Once again, I crawled away from my bed and pushed the computer cord back into the socket.
It took three minutes.
I quickly identified myself and put in my password.
Then it thought.
I wanted to bounce impatiently, but I couldn't make myself move.
At last, I found the internet, and I typed in a name, on the company page, under my account.
I searched 'images'.
And there, on the screen in front of me, was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen.
I couldn't stop the tears from welling up and spilling over as I stared back at the smiling face.
It couldn't be him.
It was.
Derek Erickson.
And I was going to kill him. — Alysha Speer

It was official. I now wanted to murder a ghost, a notion I'd discarded as unlikely only twenty minutes before. (Cat) — Jeaniene Frost

I wanted to kill them. No, not kill. "Kill" is too dull a word for that which I desired. I wanted to annihilate them. I wanted to tear them limb from limb. I wanted to crack their bones and bury my face in the wet remains. I wanted to reach inside their chests and yank out their hearts and devour the bloody meat as the last stray current twitched the muscle and watch their faces as they died. — Justin Cronin

Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description - the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. His fire belched forth, the hall smoked, he shook the mountain-roots. He thrust his head in vain at the little hole, and then coiling his length together, roaring like thunder underground, he sped from his deep lair through its great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards the Front Gate. — J.R.R. Tolkien

One day a little old lady came and asked my name, saying she couldn't read my nametag. I told her and reached for the little slip of paper she held, but she put it behind her back. It seemed she wanted to chat before giving it up. Fine with me. We chatted about our matching cardigans (the fact that I dress like a little old lady was not lost on me) and we chatted about how the Portland weather bothered her bones. We talked for a long while about her husband and how much she'd grown to hate him over the years. Then, since I guessed I'd earned her trust, she handed me her slip of paper. It was for a book on exotic poisons. I got her the book and spent the next few weeks scanning the obituaries for every old man that had died. So, yes, folks I may be an accomplice to murder. Don't say there's no excitement at the library. — Nick Pageant

I tried to stay away," he said. "I've never wanted a woman this much in my life. I'd burn cities to have you. I'd fight armies. I'd commit murder to take you right now. — C.D. Reiss

She wanted to tell him so much, on the tarmac, the day he left. The world is run by brutal men and the surest proof is their armies. If they ask you to stand still, you should dance. If they ask you to burn the flag, wave it. If they ask you to murder, re-create. Theorem, anti-theorem, corollary, anti-corollary. Underline it twice. It's all there in the numbers. Listen to your mother. Listen to me, Joshua. Look me in the eyes. I have something to tell you. — Colum McCann

He wanted to know something about me. I leaned over and put my mouth to his ear. It was barely a whisper.
'I'm a murderer. — Ruta Sepetys

Is it fun? Doin' all that detectin'? I always wanted to be a detective. I was one, for about a year, I liked the romance of it all. The suits, the hats, the dark alleys, the femme fetale, all that quick talkin' ... But I couldn't stop killin' folk. I mean, they'd hire me, I'd try to solve their mystery, nut halfway through I'd get bored and end up killin' them, and then the case'd be over and that'd be it. I solved one single murder that whole year, but I don't think that really counts, seein' as how I was the killer. I think that's kinda cheatin', in a way. — Derek Landy

I mean, I wouldn't have wanted to be recognized. But I was kind of a prude about cheating on taxes, group sex, murder, and stuff. — MaryJanice Davidson

The elaborateness of the cover story made him feel like a criminal. This is what criminals must feel like as they prepare to do a job, he thought, constructing a world based on the fullness (and falseness) of the cover story. And yet he was not going to commit a murder or rob a bank or burglarize a house. He was only going to do something so normal the wonder was that it did require such an elaborate preparation. But it was the combination of secretness and commonness that made it so sweet. It was what everyone wanted and almost nobody did, to slip out of or through the structure that gave your life a shape into a room where your life took the shape you wanted it to have, to love and be loved by someone perfectly beautiful. — Ron Loewinsohn

The black man in our midst carried murder in his heart, he wanted vengeance. We carried murder too, we wanted peace. — James Baldwin

Enough rationalization. They simply had what you wanted, so you took it.

[My chair-- I shit on my good chair!]

You shit more than just your chair.

You shit the world. All you ever cared about was winning -- And you did.

The last man standing on a mountain of filth [. . .]

Kazumi taught forgiveness. She accepted all refugees looking for a better life. And you turned that against her.

Kazumi would show mercy.

I'm not Kazumi. — Rick Remender

But always they featured things we believed were wrong in the sight of God. Stealing, lying, murder. Was this what God wanted in times like these? How should a Christian act when evil was in power? — Corrie Ten Boom

If you think about determination, if people have a heart and are determined, they can get to that place. But there are a lot of negative people who were enormously determined. All the Nazis were determined. They wanted to murder everyone. Everyone with a bad heart, who doesn't care about people, I wish they hadn't started. — Eddie Izzard

The first years were spent in cleaning Muriel, in reconciling herself to her existence. Evelyn wanted to be alone in the house; the house filled up, more than she had dreaded. After some time, Muriel began to appear sufficiently normal to be sent to school, but Evelyn was well are that she was concealing her true nature. She spoke now more like other people, though she was still both clipped and sententious. At first she had said, 'Mother, Mother,' and Evelyn thought it was 'Murder' she had called out in the dark. — Hilary Mantel

I have wanted ... to commit a murder myself. I recognized this as the desire of the artist to express himself! ... But-incongruous as it may seem to some-I was restrained and hampered by my innate sense of justice. The innocent must not suffer. — Agatha Christie

There," Hadrian said. "Problem solved, and you aren't wanted for murder. Isn't that nice?"

"It's only nice not being wanted for murder if you've actually killed someone. Otherwise, what's the point? Besides, what makes you think I'm not wanted for murder? — Michael J. Sullivan

How can one hate oneself so much that one is willing to murder that self?'
The ship shook his head and rain flew from his locks. 'That is your mistake. No one wants the self to die. I only wanted to make all the rest of it to stop. The only way to achieve that was to put death between the world and myself. — Robin Hobb

But isn't it likely that everyone in this world ... has killed someone or other on their way to the top? ... All I wanted was a chance to be a man
and for that, one murder is enough. — Aravind Adiga

Tell me, what did you think of me before that day I gave you that note?"
He did not feel any temptation to tell lies to her. It was even a sort of love-offering to start off by telling the worst.
"I hated the sight of you," he said. "I wanted to rape you and then murder you afterwards. Two weeks ago I thought seriously of smashing your head in with a cobble-stone. — George Orwell

You wanted to show everyone you could write about the black heart of a killer. And all the while pretending you don't even have your own dark desires. — Naoyuki Ochiai

It was shaping up as a beautiful morning. The last thing I wanted to hear about was murder. — Jonathan Kellerman

You stole my mother's Faces," whispered Neverfell. "You stole them, and you sold them, and you walked around wearing them, and using them to make people do what you wanted. You used my mother's Faces on me. And all the time you were her murderess or close enough. All that time you were trying to murder me. — Frances Hardinge

You wanted to kill your father in order to be your father yourself. Now you are your father, but a dead father. — Sigmund Freud

Ms. Fuller explained to me that the reason Sickert gave Ms. Pash for his divulging such a fantastic and shocking story was he wanted the truth "known but not during his lifetime." To prove his point, Sickert supposedly showed Ms. Pash a number of "murder paintings that he later burned," Ms. Fuller told me. — Patricia Cornwell

Gosh, it's easy!' he marveled, open-mouthed. 'I never knew before how easy it is to kill anyone! Twenty years to grow 'em, and all it takes is one little push!'
He was suddenly drunk with some new kind of power, undiscovered until this minute. The power of life and death over his fellowmen! Everyone had it, everyone strong enough to raise a violent arm, but they were afraid to use it. Well, he wasn't! And here he'd been going around for weeks living from hand to mouth, without any money, without enough food, when everything he wanted lay within his reach all the while! He had been green all right, and no mistake about it!
Death had become familiar. At seven it had been the most mysterious thing in the world to him, by midnight it was already an old story. ("Dusk To Dawn") — Cornell Woolrich

Do you know," he says, closing the cover of the journal only to lay his hand on top of it. Protecting it. Staring at it. "I couldn't sleep for days after I read that entry. I kept wanting to know which people were chasing you down the street, who it was you were running from. I wanted to find them," he says, so softly, "and I wanted to rip their limbs off, one by one. I wanted to murder them in ways that would horrify you to hear. — Tahereh Mafi

Once I admitted the arguments of necessity and force majeure put forward by the less eminent, I couldn't reject those of the eminent. To which they retorted that the surest way of playing the game of the red robes was to leave to them the monopoly of the death penalty. My reply to this was that if you gave in once, there was no reason for not continuing to give in. It seems to me that history has borne me out; today there's a sort of competition who will kill the most. They're all mad over murder and they couldn't stop killing men even if they wanted to. — Albert Camus

And she wanted so much to make him happy that she forgot how to make herself happy"
"That is not happiness. That is kind of murder, yeah? — Libba Bray

He told me he was used to getting what he wanted. — Celia Conrad

Tucker said so softly the words were almost inaudible, You're wrong, you know. I would let you get away with murder. Hell, I'd probably help you commit it, if that's what you wanted ... — Josh Lanyon

But sometimes a little intervention from Fate didn't hurt either. Now if only Fate would keep Oliver from Nathan. The last thing she wanted was to watch the love of her life be hanged for murder. — Sabrina Jeffries

There's an old, private cemetery here in Palm Springs, where I live, just down the street from the airport, that belongs to one of the local Native American tribes, and it occurred to me one day that if you really wanted to get away with murder, you'd kill someone, put them in a coffin and bury them in a private cemetery or, better, an abandoned one. And then suddenly this whole idea of a long con appeared before me and I had this idea of using a Jewish cemetery. — Tod Goldberg

Before Charlotte could utter a syllable, Tristan picked up her gloved hand and kissed her lightly on the
knuckles.
"Good day, Charlotte," he said.
"Good day," she answered. She turned to bid farewell to Lady Rosalind, but she seemed to have
disappeared.
Numbly, she descended the front steps toward a waiting Rothbury, who only had eyes for the Devines'
front door, looking quite like he wanted to murder someone.
"Perfection, dear brother," Rosalind proclaimed, while peeking out the little window next to the door.
"Utter perfection."
Slipping a finger inside his cravat to loosen it a bit, Tristan craned his neck from side to side, easing the
building tension. "If he kills me, I'll see to it that you get hanged for murder as well. — Olivia Parker

They sat with it in silence for a while. Bosch ran it all through once more and couldn't knock it down. It was only case theory but it held together. It worked, but it didn't mean that it was the way it had happened. Every case had unanswered questions and loose ends when it came to motives and actions. Bosch always though that if you started with the assumption that murder is an unreasonable action, then how could there ever be a fully reasonable explanation for it? It was that understanding that kept him from watching and being able to enjoy films and television shows about detectives. He found them unrealistic in their delivery of what the general audience wanted: all of the answers. — Michael Connelly

Do you belong to the religion that whip, stone and murder people; because they wanted to enjoy their life. — M.F. Moonzajer

I wanted to cheer him up, but it felt weird wanting to cheer up someone who was possibly depressed because they didn't murder you correctly, and that's when I thought, "This must be what love is. When you want to make it less difficult for someone to murder you." And that's when I realized that I was far too in love with him for my own good, and also that I probably needed therapy. — Jenny Lawson

She wanted to tell him so mach, on the tarmac, the day he left. The world is run by brutal men and the surest proof is their armies. If they ask you to stand still, you should dance. If they ask you to burn the flag, wave it. If they ask you to murder, re-create. — Colum McCann

My worst fears from jury selection manifested themselves in the verdict. This jury needed someone to tell them exactly how Caylee died. Piecing it together from circumstantial evidence was not good enough for them. They wanted the answers on a silver platter, but we didn't have the evidence to serve it that way. It's not just the verdict that tells me this, but also the manner in which it was reached. The fact that they didn't request any materials to review. The fact that they didn't have any questions for the judge. If the statements that the foreman of the jury made to the media are true, ten of these twelve jurors felt that ninety minutes of deliberation was sufficient to fully weigh, consider, and reject four weeks' worth of testimony that we on the prosecution used to establish that this was first-degree murder. The rest of the thirteen hours of deliberation had been spent trying to convince the two holdout jurors of the decision. — Jeff Ashton

In fact, until the last moments of his life, until the last seconds as he gasped for breath, he never realised how much he wanted to live. But, at that point, death was inevitable and nothing that had happened could be changed. — Stephen Craig

I told them you almost certainly were not a serial killer, and that they were being horribly sexist by assuming that of the two of us, only you were capable of committing murder. That may have been a tactical error - it got me rather a lot more questioning that I hadn't exactly been planning on." "Well, yes. It's usually unwise to tell the police you could be a serial killer if you really, really wanted to. — Seanan McGuire

I suspected Molly wanted the pictures to send to her friends on Twitter and Facebook, the ones that I was not supposed to know about. I didn't dare ask because we have an unspoken agreement - I don't question what she does on my computer when I'm out and, in return, she doesn't murder me in my sleep. Back — Ben Aaronovitch

I had always wanted to go on the Orient Express, but that I'd sort of consider it a wasted opportunity if a murder didn't happen. It's not that I'm particularly bloodthirsty, it's just that I have standards — Jenny Lawson

Thanks' is the typical response when someone goes out of his way to supply you with new underwear so you can comfortably go into hiding because you're wanted on two counts of murder."
I found it hard to believe that particular scenario was common enough to have a typical response, but ...
"Thanks. And wow. — Rachel Vincent

Dalgliesh reflected that one of the minor hazards of a murder investigation was the inordinate amount of caffeine he was expected to consume. But he wanted the interview to be as informal as possible, and food or drink always helped. — P.D. James

The woman had gasped beneath his heavy body. He rubbed against her, lubricated by the warm, sticky liquid, but as her body gradually grew cold, he felt as though they'd been glued together. She seemed to be see-sawing between agony and ecstasy, but finally Satake pressed his lips over hers to quiet the groans-of pain or pleasure-that were leaking from her mouth. He found the hole that he had made in her side and worked his finger deep into the opening. Blood was pumping from the wound, staining their sex a gruesome crimson. He wanted to get further inside, to melt into her. As he was about to come, he pulled his lips from her and she whispered in his ear: "I'm finished ... finished."
"I know," he'd said, and he could still hear the exact sound of his own voice. — Natsuo Kirino

When had I tamed myself? It had been a lengthy apprenticeship, begun when I was as young as ten, and continued relentlessly throughout my adolescence, when I had discovered to my own terror that I wanted to murder somebody: my father, a sarcastic friend, my professor of Latin and Greek, even a rude passerby. It was not until I was almost twenty that I began to suspect that, along with the repression of my violent impulses, I had repressed everything, even my ability to experience a profound emotion, even my impulse to do good deeds and help others. I had become as good as I had hoped to be, but good with the cautious detachment of one who never indulges in excess. — Domenico Starnone

He wanted to cut the man's throat. Never in his life had he been so overpowered by such a desire to kill someone. It was a strange feeling, sweet and driven. In one leap he could be on him. His legs wanted to do it; they trembled with anticipation. — Robert Karjel