White Nightmare Quotes & Sayings

I shall be the wild park in the midst of the nightmare of perfection, the still, unshakeable dream in the midst of frenzied activity, the random shot on the white billiard table of logic, I shall know neither how to weep nor protest, but I shall be there always in absolute silence to receive and to restore. — Henry Miller

Writing, not dancing, is the chosen form of expression of the white man. — Gerald Jonas

Because the question for me was always whether that shape we see in our lives was there from the beginning or whether these random events are only called a pattern after the fact. Because otherwise we are nothing. — Cormac McCarthy

If it's commercial fiction that you want to write, it's story, story, story. You've got to get a story where if you tell it to somebody in a paragraph, they'll go, "Tell me more." And then when you start to write it, they continue to want to read more. And if you don't, it won't work. — James Patterson

A great musician once told me that one should never play a single note without hearing it, feeling that it is true, thinking it beautiful. — Brenda Ueland

Alec deadpanned, "You didn't just 'Call my name', you shouted it like you were being murdered."

An image of the gun going off in my nightmare struck me, but I shook it off.

"I would have screeched or at the very least given a high-pitched white-woman scream if I was being murdered. I wouldn't have shouted at all if I knew it would have upset you this much."

Alec looked exhausted as he rubbed his hand over his gorgeous face. "Why a white-woman?"

I shrugged, again. "It's usually the white ones who scream the loudest that get killed in the slasher films. — L.A. Casey

My mama's white and my papa is black. I'm your worst fucking nightmare, — Tillie Cole

Bridge knew why she was here. It's why we're all here, she thought. Call it Mr. Partridge with his black-and-white cookies. Call it Em standing on that stage with her knees shaking but her voice strong. Call it Jamie looking awkward in the doorway of her bedroom after she'd had the mummy nightmare. Call it love. — Rebecca Stead

He moved to sniff some white-and-yellow flowers.
A nightmare. This was a nightmare. "You can't really like flowers."
Again those dark eyes shifted to her. Blinked once.
I most certainly do, he seemed to say. — Sarah J. Maas

Son unas cualquieras, she mutters. Nobodies. No culture, no family life, illiterates, she means. The kind of people who make her cross to the other side of the street if she meets them in the dark on payday. They're her worst nightmare of what a Latin girl can become in the United States. Their big hoop earrings and plucked eyebrows, their dark lips painted like those stars in the old black-and-white movies, their tight T-shirts that show too much curve and invite boys' touches. — Meg Medina

Ryan couldn't believe his eyes. Gran wearing leather chaps in a Harley shop, talking about her ass. It was a living nightmare.
"What am I doing here?" he asked Gran. Before he could read her the riot act on safety, Liz stepped in front of him. Her pink shirt was buttoned all the way to the top and tucked into ironed white pants. Her hair was straight and perfect. He had the strangest urge to muss her up. — Kylie Gilmore

The stuff of nightmare is their plain bread. They butter it with pain. They set their clocks by deathwatch beetles, and thrive the centuries. They were the men with the leather-ribbon whips who sweated up the Pyramids seasoning it with other people's salt and other people's cracked hearts. They coursed Europe on the White Horses of the Plague. They whispered to Caesar that he was mortal, then sold daggers at half-price in the grand March sale. Some must have been lazing clowns, foot props for emperors, princes, and epileptic popes. Then out on the road, Gypsies in time, their populations grew as the world grew, spread, and there was more delicious variety of pain to thrive on. The train put wheels under them and here they run down the log road out of the Gothic and baroque; look at their wagons and coaches, the carving like medieval shrines, all of it stuff once drawn by horses, mules, or, maybe, men. — Ray Bradbury

Vampires and humans; we are all monsters in our own way at the end of a dream, or a nightmare. — Cameron Jace

'Shadows' wasn't so difficult to get made. — Seymour Cassel

And the bleak one? Bowen? What's his damage? Why does he look so bad?"
"He lost someone verra close to him."
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "When did it happen?"
"Early eighteen hundreds."
"And he still hasn't recovered?"
"He's gotten worse." Lachlain rested his forehead against hers. "It's our nature, Emma. — Kresley Cole

And if you are a mom who has watched your child's father leave, my heart goes out to you. I also pray that you had no part in it. I pray that you didn't make it impossible for him while he was there. I pray that you didn't try and force him to live up to impossible expectations. And, I pray that if he is a good man and he wants to be there in his child's life that you love your child enough to let him. Even if that seems impossible to you. — Dan Pearce

Young white men in the eighteen-to-twenty-four-year-old range are often coming to grips with the fact that life isn't as easy as they were promised. I've been there myself. When you realize that life isn't going to hand you the job you want or the woman you want to fuck, you look around for someone to blame, and feminism becomes an easy target. If only women were subservient objects who stayed at home, there would be more jobs open to young white men and more women with no other option but to have sex with them for sustenance.
I realize that white-man utopia sounds really pleasing to these guys, but it's basically everyone else's worst nightmare It's not so great for them either, but they won't get that for a long time, if ever.
Suffice to say you won't convince them of this in an online comments section, either. — Kameron Hurley

One of them hasn't got a uniform on or plainclothes either like the rest. He has on the white coat that is my nightmare and my horror. And in the crotch of one arm he is upending two long poles intertwined with canvas.
The long-drawn-out death within life. The burial-alive of the mind, covering it over with fresh graveyard earth each time it tries to struggle through to the light. In this kind of death you never finish dying.
("New York Blues") — Cornell Woolrich

I have a lot of stories. I had done a thing called Nightmare in Red White and Blue, which was an anthology of horror films. I narrated it with a man named Joe Maddrey, who's a writer. He came to my house and said, "Lance would you consider doing this?," and I like Joe so much that I completely relaxed. — Lance Henriksen

With blue vinyl-tile floor, pale-green wainscoating, pink walls, a yellow ceiling, and orange-and-white stork-patterned drapes, the expectant fathers' lounge churned with the negative energy of color overload. It would have served well as the nervous-making set for a nightmare about a children's-show host who led a secret life as an ax murderer. The chain-smoking clown didn't improve the ambience. — Dean Koontz

One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out. — Anne Sexton

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was white as leprosy,
The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I'm a compulsive enjamber. I'm drawn to half-meanings created by the line, so that's definitely an element of craft that's always on my mind. And I'm a big devotee of the short line, of couplets and tercets, and of irregular stanzas with lots of white space. I've got to give the dense language room to breathe! — Anna Journey

When I started out, I was absolutely awful, I had no voice, I didn't have a lot of stage presence and most of the interpretive intensity that I brought to the experience was actually terror. — Jimmy Webb

A nightmare, a memory. A thing can be both.
I stare up at the ceiling. White, white, white. The emptiness of it aches. — Emery Lord

Oh Come All Ye Faithful "Occum" Claus stood a head taller than most of the other men at the party. Like most of his crazy family, he wore a Santa suit, only the coat of his outfit was missing, exposing suspenders and a sleeveless white tank top. The man was heavily muscled and looked angry; a mixture of holiday cheer and a Navy SEAL having a really bad day. He was the picture that went along with the headline "Christmas Nightmare" or "Crazed Santa Attacks Orphans with Fire Ax. — Elizabeth Gannon

In the dark behind the glare of the television, like a mannequin behind it, I could see a silhouette and it wasn't moving. It was maybe six foot high with its shoulders hunched and I blinked to make sure it was real. The TV fuzzed grey and white and black and I had a lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow away. "Rory" I whispered. Clawing out gently beneath the duvet cover, reaching for his hand. But I couldn't find it. And he didn't answer. — Kate Chisman

Music is only work when someone else makes you do it. — Rachel Hartman

With battle-weary arms, Sheridan slugged his way across the luminous waves sending light-filled droplets splashing into the air like Fourth of July sparklers.
Stumbling onto the lake's rocky banks, he clawed desperately at the animal skin suit, yanking at the fastenings and peeling back the suffocating shroud in a fitful temper tantrum. He collapsed onto the glitter washed shore, his chest heaving, his forehead pulsing with pumped up veins.
"That was a nightmare!" Sheridan rasped between gulps of air. "Like some sort of freaked-out acid trip!"
"All suffering comes bearing a gift. Every pain is a portal. You must look at the hand of your suffering to see the gift it offers and peer into your pain to see where it may lead." Kunchen said calmly. — Phillip White

Rain rain go away, come again another day — Rosen Topuzov

Do not love these gardens if you despise the dirt. — Melissa Jennings

I love anything that haunts me ... and never leaves — Jeff Buckley

First, all I could see was this beautiful face, this beautiful girl's face; like a white, slightly luminous mask, swimming detachedly against enfolding darkness. As if a little private spotlight of its own was trained on it from below. It was so beautiful and so false, and I seemed to know it so well, and my heart was wrung.
There was no danger yet, just this separate, shell-like face mask standing out. But there was danger somewhere around, I knew that already; and I knew that I couldn't escape it. I knew that everything [ was about to do, I had to do, I couldn't avoid doing. And yet, oh, I didn't want to do it. I wanted to turn and flee, I wanted to get out of wherever this was. ("Nightmare") — Cornell Woolrich

Sometimes the worst-tasting crap is the best for you. — Michael Harmon

I could feel the threads from that world, threatening to pull me in, and I'd take whatever anchor I could get. Even if he was a blond nightmare.
I lifted my head to look at him "How did you find me?"
"Just lucky." The answer was smooth, but it felt like he blurted it out a litle too easily. I narrowd my eyes,but he continued."Why did you lie about the trolls?"
"I didn't." We sat there looking at each other, two seasoned liars,until i couldn't take it anymore."Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks." My voice cracked a little. "If you hadn't shown up ... "
"If I hadn't shown up,you would have been fine.No need to get sappy on me when I've decided you mmight be some decent fun after all.Now,you happen to be wearing my nicest coat. I'll like very much to get it back, so let's take you home,shall we? — Kiersten White

God is universal," spluttered the priest.
The imam nodded strong approval. "There is only one God."
"And with their one god Muslims are always causing troubles and provoking riots. The proof of how bad Islam is, is how uncivilized Muslims are,: pronounced the pandit.
"Says the slave-driver of the cast system," huffed the imam. "Hindus enslave people and worship dressed-up dolls."
"They are golden calf lovers. They kneel before the cows," the priest chimed in.
"While Christians kneel before a white man! They are flunkies of a foreign god. They are nightmare of all nonwhite people. — Yann Martel

When you restore democracy, you cannot say that only those who worked for the restoration of democracy will be allowed to use the privileges of a democracy. — Corazon Aquino