Words That Kill Quotes & Sayings

He's not my boyfriend."
"Ha. That's a good one. I saw you two tonsil surfing out there."
I could kill her. "I don't even have tonsils!"
"I know that and I bet Nick knows that too, now." She slaps her leg because she's just too funny for words. — Carrie Jones

I am so afraid of people's words.They describe so distinctly everything:
And this they call dog and that they call house,
here the start and there the end.
I worry about their mockery with words,
they know everything, what will be, what was;
no mountain is still miraculous;
and their house and yard lead right up to God.
I want to warn and object: Let the things be!
I enjoy listening to the sound they are making.
But you always touch: and they hush and stand still.
That's how you kill. — Rainer Maria Rilke

I am convinced that the moment is coming when, with its message of eternal, universal values, it will come to the aid of our society. For in these words: "Thou shalt not kill; Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself," lie those very moral principles that will enable us to survive even the most critical situations. — Boris Yeltsin

tell me even though lies soft words
it was about to kill me with you that statue

i still in the art of love a baby
between us seas and mountains

you still can't understand
that all men are babies

so if i stood before your love quietly
then quietness in the love is love

our words in love are killing our love
and letters are dying after they're said

love stories may drive you crazy
cause its all full of fantasies

love is not a story,my dear
where the stars marry each other by the end

its to get hot blooded for anything silly
it's our misery, it's our killing doubting

it's this hand that assassin us
and we accept that hand that assassin — Nizar Qabbani

This is our tragedy, she said in his words, our fictions are killing us, but if we didn't have those fictions, maybe that would kill us too. — Salman Rushdie

No one feels like you do, so every brush of your skin is a cruel reminder of what I've lost. I can barely stand the sight of you because you're more beautiful than I've allowed myself to remember, and when I cut that wire off Maximus and smelled you all over him, I wanted to kill him more than I've wanted to kill anyone in my life, yet I couldn't because of my promise to you."
Slow tears continued to trickle down my cheeks, but for a different reason this time.
"You care."
The words were whispered with a despairing sort of wonder. He wasn't willing to rescind his loveless vow, clearly, but I was wrong about the apathy I'd thought he felt. That he admitted all the above was surprising enough; the fact he'd done it within earshot of his pilots was no less than shocking.
Vlad grunted. "Don't worry. I intend to kill them as soon as we land. — Jeaniene Frost

He raises his hand to my face again and I allow the touch. His fingers slide along my jawline and the warmth of his caresses radiates past my skin and into my bloodstream. Pleasing goose bumps rise on my neck.
"Do you think you'll come back sometime?" he asks. "And let me help you with your car?"
My ears ring with the staccato thrum, thrum, thrum of my heart. Holy crap, I can't believe this is happening to me.
"I'll make it work. I swear." The words tumble out of my mouth without thought. That's not true. Actually, they tumble out with a lot of thought of how my parents won't approve, of how my brothers will kill Isaiah, then possibly kill me. But in this moment, I don't care what any of them think. — Katie McGarry

Beauty is frightening," they will tell you -

Lazily you will arrange

A Spanish shawl on your shoulders,

A red rose in your hair.


"Beauty is simple," they will tell you -

Clumsily with a motley shawl

You will cover a child up,

A red rose on the floor.


But, distractedly heeding

All the words sounding around you,

Sadly lost in thought

You will say about yourself:


'I am neither frightening nor simple;

I am not so frightening, that I would simply

Kill; I am not so simple

That I do not know how frightening life is.'

("For Anna Akhmatova") — Alexander Blok

You are outside life, you are above life, you have miseries which the ordinary man does not know, you exceed the normal level, and it is for this that men refuse to forgive you, you poison their peace of mind, you undermine their stability. You have irrepressible pains whose essence is to be inadaptable to any known state, indescribable in words. You have repeated and shifting pains, incurable pains, pains beyond imagining, pains which are neither of the body nor of the soul, but which partake of both. And I share your suffering, and I ask you: who dares to ration our relief? ... We are not going to kill ourselves just yet. In the meantime, leave us the hell alone. — Antonin Artaud

First of all," I began, "I don't love you. I love my family and maybe even Casey and Jessica, but romantic love takes years upon years to develop. So I don't love you. But I will admit, I've thought a lot about you lately and I definitely have feelings for you ... feelings other than hatred for the most part. And maybe it's possible - in the future - that I ... could love you." I hesitated, a little scared of the words that'd just left my mouth. "But I still want to kill you most of the time. — Kody Keplinger

Words are my weapons. They might kill or cure the readers, that's out of my control. — Ama H. Vanniarachchy

Remembering your mistakes more acutely than any minor success. This was the worst. The things that kept you up at night. Tip a waiter that was too small. The words that didn't fit the moment. Words that didn't come till to late. You could kill yourself in increments, punishing your spirit day after day-regret. Guilt. Not the guilt of the little girl who woke in the night embarrassed God was mad at her because she had ticked balls under her shirt, pretending to have breasts. "I even felt sexy." That was sweet, and pure, no crime at all. But the crime of obsessive replay-get rid of it, get rid of it. Who could ever have known that hardest punishments would be the ones you gave yourself? — Naomi Shihab Nye

How can you love me?" she asked, forcing herself to say the words that would kill the tenderness in his eyes. "You don't even know me. You know 'Lady Agatha,' a composite, a character, a role I played."

He shook his head, his negation gentle but certain. "I didn't fall in love with a character, a title, or an occupation. I didn't fall in love with you because of your past or despite it.
"I love you because of your intensity and passion, because you make me want to be better than I am, because seeing my reflection in your eyes makes me better than I am. I love you because you laugh easily and honestly. I love you because you carried an ugly mutt into a drawing room as though it were a prince and because you gave an old soldier a strawberry trifle. I love you, Letty. — Connie Brockway

No carelessness in your actions. No confusion in your words. No imprecision in your thoughts. No retreating into your own soul, or trying to escape it. No overactivity. They kill you, cut you with knives, shower you with curses. And that somehow cuts your mind off from clearness, and sanity, and self-control, and justice? A man standing by a spring of clear, sweet water and cursing it. While the fresh water keeps on bubbling up. He can shovel mud into it, or dung, and the stream will carry it away, wash itself clean, remain unstained. To have that. Not a cistern but a perpetual spring. How? By working to win your freedom. Hour by hour. Through patience, honesty, humility. — Marcus Aurelius

Boys flying kites haul in their white winged birds; You can't do that way when you're flying words. Careful with fire, is good advice we know Careful with words, is ten times doubly so. Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead; But God Himself can't kill them when they're said. — Will Carleton

I didn't have any more time. Directly below the window was a thickly leafed bush of some sort. I couldn't see it clearly and only hoped it wasn't a rosebush or something equally sharp. A second floor drop wouldn't kill me, though. Probably wouldn't even hurt - much.
I climbed over the ledge, briefly meeting Dimitri's gaze as the other Strigoi moved in on him. The words came to me again: Don't hesitate. Dimitri's important lesson. But it hadn't been his first one. His first had been about what to do if I was outnumbered and out of options: Run.
Time for me to run.
I leapt out the window.
I think the profanities that came out of my mouth when I hit the ground would have been understandable in any language. It hurt. — Richelle Mead

I know that words cannot move mountains, but they can move the multitude - we've proven that time and time again. People are more ready to fight and die for a word than for anything else. Words shape thought, stir feeling, and force action. They kill and revive, corrupt and cure. — Dan Abnett

Many evils spring from power," he said. "Even from the power to do good. All power corrupts, and the intention to do good has little influence on the corruption. Either my words will last after me and be believed by men, or else they won't. Yet if one thing were required to kill them certainly, it is that my words should be spread after my death by the power of money. No teaching could survive a campaign of paid advertising. — Nevil Shute

Arnobius wrote in the fourth century: "Evil ought not be repaid with evil. . . . It is better to suffer wrong than inflict it. . . . We should rather shed our own blood than stain our hands and our conscience with the blood of another" (Sider, 101). In his writings on "public homicide," Lactantius raged against the ways we have glorified death - that we have a "thirst for blood" and "lose our humanity." Here are his powerful words insisting that it is wrong to kill, even legally: It makes no difference whether you put a person to death by word or rather by sword, since it is the act of putting to death itself which is prohibited. . . . There ought to be no exception at all but that it is always unlawful to put to death a person who God willed to be a sacred creature. (Sider, 110) He goes on to say that when we kill, even legally execute, "the bloodshed stains the conscience. — Shane Claiborne

Hamas hides its rockets and bombs in schools and mosques, builds tunnels under United Nations facilities, and often surrounds its fighters with children and other civilians, using them as human shields. It hopes that Israel will either refrain from firing on known terrorists or that, if Israel does fire, enough children will die for the world to express outrage against Israel. In other words, this organization launches rockets hoping to kill children, and when Israel responds, it does all it can to make sure that only Palestinian children die. — Jay Sekulow

It's just words. How can words be dangerous?"
"You have a lot to learn about the world, baby girl. Nothing is more dangerous than words."
"That's stupid. What about a gun? A gun can kill you dead."
"Only your body," Billy said. "It can't kill your soul. Words can kill your soul. — Catherine Ryan Hyde

There's an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that I've been thinking about a lot while writing this essay. In it, Buffy sacrifices her own life to save her sister, and right before she does, she tells her sister that the hardest thing to do in the world is to live - ironic words coming from someone about to kill herself for the greater good. As I'm writing this, I just keep thinking that Katniss never gets to sacrifice herself. She doesn't get the heroic death. She survives - and that leaves her doing the hardest thing in the world: living in it once so many of the ones she loves are gone. — Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Love can't kill me," I say, parroting Carla's words.
"That's not true," she says. "Whoever told you that? — Nicola Yoon

You hunt and catch your own food. Am I correct?"
"We are fierce predators of the night," DeChevue said proudly.
Edwin tried again, "You hunt and gather your own food?"
DeChevue still didn't get it. "Yes, M'sieur. We hunt, proudly."
"You know, there is a special name for people who have to catch and kill everything they eat."
"And that name has been the terror of the night from the dawn of man. Which name would you like? I can supply many. Nosferatu? Das Vampire?"
"Peasant," Edwin said. "A person who has to provide all his own food is a peasant. How is it that you have lived all this time and are still ignorant of the division of labor?"
DeChevue's mouth opened and closed several times. Each time he seemed on the verge of saying something, yet each time words failed him. — Patrick E. McLean

Life was transparent, literature opaque. Life was open, literature a closed system. Life was composed of things, literature of words. Life was what it appeared to be: if you were afraid your plane would crash it was about death, if you were trying to get a girl into bed it was about sex. Literature was never about what it appeared to be about, though in the case of the novel cosiderable ingenuity and perception were needed to crack the code of realistic illusion, which was why he had been professionally attracted to the genre (even the dumbest critic understood that Hamlet wasn't about how the guy wanted to kill his uncle, or the Ancient Mariner about cruelty to animals, but it was surprising how many people thought Jane Austen's novels were about finding Mr Right). — David Lodge

After a time Ara had to do her chores, leaving me on the porch with a fresh infusion of tea to drink, her garden to look at, and her words to consider.
Not that I got very far. There were too many questions. Like: Where did those guards go? Azmus had overcome one, but I didn't remember having seen any more. Then there were the unlocked doors. The one to my cell could be explained away, but not the outside one. If there was a conspiracy, was Azmus behind it? Or someone else--and if so, who; and more importantly, to what end?
It was just possible that those dashing aristos had contrived my escape for a game, just as a cruel cat will play with a mouse before the kill. Their well-publicized bet could certainly account for that. The wager would also serve very nicely as a warning to ordinary people not to interfere with their prey, I thought narrowly.
Which meant that if I'd left any clue to my trail, I had better move on. Soon. — Sherwood Smith

Write every day. Don't kill yourself. I think a lot of people think, 'I have to write a chapter a day' and they can't. They fall behind and stop doing it. But if you just write even one hundred words a day, it's not that much. By the end of a month, you'll have three thousand words, which is one chapter. — Cassandra Clare

Cal," I whisper into her sleep, "if you go, you know what? You'll break my liver." I want to pretend that it's a joke, that she will wake up and laugh with me, throwing her head back the way she did last night, bit this time the words are true ... she will break my liver, break my heart, kill everything inside alive inside me. — Brad Barkley

It is these undeniable qualities of human love and compassion and self-sacrifice that give me hope for the future. We are, indeed, often cruel and evil. Nobody can deny this. We gang up on each one another, we torture each other, with words as well as deeds, we fight, we kill. But we are also capable of the most noble, generous, and heroic behavior. — Jane Goodall

Arjuro made a scoffing sound. 'You think Lumatere will invade because of you? Are you that important?'

Froi looked away. 'Isaboe would invade if you kidnapped a servant, let alone a friend.'

'Isaboe? We're on first-name terms with the Queen of Lumatere, are we?' Gargarin asked.

Froi found himself bristling. 'What? Do you think I'm some cutthroat for hire who they found hanging around the palace walls with the words "I want
to kill a Charynite King" tattooed on my arse? — Melina Marchetta

Peace is not something you fight for With bombs and missiles that kill, Nor can it be won in a "battle of words" One fashions by scheming and skill For those who are greedy and warlike, Whose avarice for power cannot cease, Can never contribute in helping To bring this world nearer to peace For in seeking peace for all people There is only one place to begin And that is in each home and heart- For the fortress of peace is within! — Helen Steiner Rice

Will you promise to keep this to yourself, to not tell anyone of what we are? By his words you'd think he was giving me a choice. Like I could say,no deal, honey bunch, I'm off to shout your secret from the rooftops, and he'd be like, oh no please don't do that. In
reality, he'd have to kill me. — L. H. Cosway

I've been insulted by fools before. I survived." Even in the dim light he saw her eyes change.

"Just because he was using words instead of a knife, you can't dismiss it, Saetan. He hurt you."

"Of course he hurt me," Saetan snapped. "Being accused of - " He closed his eyes and squeezed her hand. "I don't tolerate fools, Jaenelle, but I also don't kill them for being fools. I simply keep them out of my life." He sat up and took her other hand. "I am your sword and your shield, Lady. You don't have to kill."

Witch studied him with her ancient, haunted sapphire eyes. "You'll take the scars on your soul so that mine remains unmarked?"

"Everything has a price," he said gently. "Those kinds of scars are part of being a Warlord Prince. You're at a crossroads, witch-child. You can use your power to heal or to harm. It's your choice. — Anne Bishop

I listened, vaguely knowing now that I had committed some awful wrong that I could not undo, that I had uttered words I could not recall even though I ached to nullify them, kill them, turn back time to the moment before I had talked so that I could have another chance to save myself. — Richard Wright

On the third day Vera said:

'I love your body because it is beautiful. But I do not know your soul. I do not know whether there is a soul. Nor is it necessary for me because your body is beautiful.

But everything is mutable and you will grow old. At first your face will grow old. Your body will live longer. An old face will be a mockery before a youthful body. And then a wasted body will be a mockery to ravenous desires.

This is like the dead light of the setting sun which from the clouds above was reflected in the water... feeble and full of disillusion.

Should I not kill you so that I might always possess you for myself.'

And Vera became terrifying.

I found this unpleasant.

But from these words I understood that she had decided upon the day.

("Thirty-Three Abominations") — Lydia Zinovieva-Annibal

Words themselves aren't that important. Even if somebody says words that shock you, or make you want to kill them, or make you tremble with emotion, the words themselves you tend to forget in time. Words are just tools we use to express or communicate something. — Ryu Murakami

There are powers in the words. With this you can save lives, but also it's something that can kill. — Yuu Watase

Me trying to kill people wasn't as bad as me tearing people down and making people cry and ripping them apart, because words never heal. That's what I've learned. I'd rather raise my son and tell him, "If you get in a fight with your friend, just punch him. Don't say anything, because the next day he doesn't get over that."' — Reginald Arvizu

Thou shalt not kill: the four most important, and yet, most ignored words in all religious teachings. There is not an asterisk next to that commandment saying, Unless you walk on all four and have fur, feathers, horns, beaks or gills. — Gary Yourofsky

Make careful choice of the books which you read:
let the holy Scriptures ever have the preeminence.
Let Scripture be first and most in your hearts and
hands and other books be used as subservient to it.
While reading ask yourself:
1. Could I spend this time no better?
2. Are there better books that would edify me more?
3. Are the lovers of such a book as this the greatest
lovers of the Book of God and of a holy life?
4. Does this book increase my love to the Word of God,
kill my sin, and prepare me for the life to come?
"The words of the wise are like goads, their collected
sayings like firmly embedded nails - given by one Shepherd.
Be warned, my son, of anything in addition to them. Of
making many books there is no end, and much study
wearies the body." Ecclesiastes 12:11-12 — Richard Baxter

To the Richmond Leader in 1966 when the school board banned her novel: "Surely it is plain to the simplest intelligence that 'To Kill a Mockingbird' spells out in words of seldom more than two syllables a code of honor and conduct, Christian in its ethic, that is the heritage of all Southerners. To hear that the novel is 'immoral' has made me count the years between now and 1984, for I have yet to come across a better example of doublethink. — Harper Lee

Dr. Praxton agreed. "And I say if you're going to kill from the neck so not to supply the brain, you deliver the kill shot to both carotid arteries. A one sided brain is a worthless walking corpse. But the mistake would be allowing him to keep walking."
Daniel hesitated, thinking on Dr. Praxton's words. "Taking his voice may force him out."
"But the freaking idiot had no voice to begin with," Tot complained.
Daniel nodded. "Yes, that indeed ... which brings me to the question; what exactly is the nature of his Degale state?"
"He is Dumb, so his sense of hearing is amplified within the Baremata Stream. And like a whisper in the wind, The Dementor dements by feeding back the glimpses he catches in the Stream," Curl replied. — Dew Platt

Guilt - the universal punishment. For what? What have you done? Illusions of deeds gone wrong, misspoken words, actions that seemed to kill or harm others, all are dreams of injuries to ourselves and others, and yet they are only dreams. The spirit realm, where all the loved ones wait, is a much more accurate portrayal of yourself. Yet even this is incomplete. You are ultimately only love, extending itself for all of eternity. — Shaman Elizabeth Herrera

You're an idiot. Don't put words into my mouth. I might not be happy I had no choice, and I might be confused as hell, but I am not going to let others get hurt because I'm confused. Now, let's go see this horde of scary, dangerous wolves so I can get my flesh burned and hide from the humans who tried to kill me. Because that sounds like a fun way to spend the day. — Alexandra Ivy

He stood up. In his own mind, he stepped sideways. Shifting his
thoughts. His fears were his own, weren't they? He'd spun them out
from himself. He'd forged them from every hurt and fury. Fear was a
reminder that even the insubstantial could kill. But insubstantial meant it had no shape. It couldn't be conquered or tamed or avoided. Only moved through, with force and will. Vikram crouched, his fingers splayed on the ground, his breath forming icicles in the air.
His fears bore down. Sharp. Hungry. He grinned.
I made you.
I own you.
He repeated the words like a mantra, until he found the strength to
stand . . .
And run. — Roshani Chokshi

Since your father has escaped my justice, it is you who must hear my words."
"Words. You keep saying ... "
"Because that was the gift your father gave to me. And the curse that ruined me as well, changed my life to wretched misery. There are hours yet before the guard comes - nay, eons. An eternity, in fact. This is my time, Miranda. Now you will have your words back: before I kill you, you will hear my tale ... and you will know what you have done. — Tad Williams

Bishop stares at me. "What do you want me to say, Ivy?" he asks finally. "That I agree with what my father did? That I don't? What's the answer you're looking for?"
"I'm not looking for a specific answer," I tell him, although the part of me that's been coached to kill him hopes he agrees with his father. "I want to know what you think."
"I think," Bishop says, "that we can love our families without trusting everything they tell us. Without championing everything they stand for." He delivers the words matter-of-factly, but his eyes are locked on mine. "I think that sometimes things aren't as simple as our fathers want us to believe. — Amy Engel

I wonder if men find it easier than women do to consider people not as bodies, as lives, but as numbers, figures, toys of the mind to be pushed about a battleground of the mind. This disembodiment gives pleasure, exciting them and freeing them to act for the sake of acting, for the sake of manipulating the figures, the game pieces. Love of country, or honor, or freedom, then, may be names they give that pleasure to justify it to the gods and to the people who suffer and kill and die in the game. So those words - love, honor, freedom - are degraded from their true sense. Then people may come to hold them in contempt as meaningless, and poets must struggle to give them back their truth. — Ursula K. Le Guin

Afterwards, sitting on my bunk, I cried. I read somewhere that when you're a kid it's people's cruelty that makes you cry, then when you're an adult it's their kindness. I hadn't realised until that moment how completely I'd given up any entitlement to kindness.
And then when I saw Jake, so visibly strung out, looking so totally alone, the makeup felt cheap on my face, a stupid girl's gesture. (The girl's still in there, waist-deep in the blood and guts of the monster's victims. There might be something out there that'll kill the girl but if so I can't imagine what it could be.)
Are you okay? I'm fine. Are you all right? I'm fine. Weeks of waiting and then when the moment comes you trade the plainest words.
The nearness of him hurt, my heart, my head, my breasts, my womb, it felt like, started the wolf trying to tear itself free. — Glen Duncan

Hasn't stopped us before. And besides, if they wanted to kill us, we'd be dead by now and would be having an entirely different conversation. I wonder if I'd still be mad at you, or if we would talk in words or pictures. Maybe in smells. That would be cool. -Janco — Maria V. Snyder

Creative people in particular traditionally have strained relations with systems, structures, standards, and other perceived constraints on their creative freedom. Nowhere is this clearer than in big organizations where people often complain that "the systems" kill creativity, longingly thinking back to the halcyon days when the company was young and less bureaucratic. Going back to the unstructured start-up days is not an option, however. Established companies require a different kind of innovation: they need a culture in which creativity is part of the corporate ecosystem. The key to building a creative culture is not to declare war on systems, processes, and policies, but to embrace and redesign them so they support and actively enhance innovative behavior. Managers, in other words, have to fight systems with systems, creating an architecture of innovation in their teams and departments. The primary aim is to help people behave more like innovators. — Paddy Miller

He swallowed again. "Why?"
When I opened my mouth to answer, my lips started trembling - from nerves or regret I don't know - and it took a few seconds to actually force the words out. "Because you have to find Nicholas. And I can't handle that right now. I know I said I could, but I can't." Breathing as deeply as I could, I took Daniel's closeness inside me, feeling all the while like I was on the edge of suffocating. "I'm about to fall apart, and I need time."
"I need you."
"You need me to kill-"
"No!" Daniel's face flushed, and he fixed his mouth shut, inhaling rapidly through his nose while trying to regain control. "You aren't going anywhere near Dmitri. Not ever. He's my responsibility. — Angela B. Wade

The philosophers are wrong: it is not words that kill, it is silence. — Elie Wiesel

Plus, I know for a fact that Governor Cruel won't allow them to keep us." Pip sneered at her. "You're about to learn a harsh lesson, little girl. You're nothing to him. Just another replaceable whore." He raked a harsh glare over her body. "Probably not even that. I've heard his tastes run more along the line of pretty young boys." She met his glare with one of her own. "You know nothing about him. And if you refer to him again with anything other than the utmost respect in your tone, you won't have to worry about prison or the League. I'll fucking kill you with my own bare hands." Those words had the effect she wanted them to. Everyone sucked their breath in and held it. No one had ever heard her use such language before. It wasn't in her nature. But she was through watching others insult Darling when all he'd ever done was try to help them. Her — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Mel opened her jaw wide to stretch it out before she spoke again so that her words were very clear. "I am going to kill you. I'm going to drag your sorry carcass out into the desert, pour honey all over you, and let the fire ants eat you."
"You're angry," he said.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Mel snapped. — Jenn McKinlay

He held his fingers to my lips. "Shh, don't say it, Tyler. Don't say the words that will fucking break me. Don't say the words that will tear my world apart." Dean sighed and gripped his eyes shut before looking back at me again. "Don't ask me to give up something that has always been a part of me. It will kill me, Tyler. Please. I can't live without you. — Jaimie Roberts

Welcome to the madhouse. Feel free to stay as long as you'd like, but as long as you're here, there are rules to be followed."
"Like?"
"Like betray me and I kill you. Lie to me and I kill you. Ignore an order and I kill you. Otherwise, do whatever the hell you want. You think you can handle that?"
"As long as you don't talk down to me because I'm a woman. You pull some misogynistic shit and I'll kill you. We got a deal?"
Those words, they do something to me, hearing that threat come from her lips, so at odds with that low, sultry voice. It makes me hard in an instant. — J.M. Darhower

I wished for death," he whispered, and the words took the smile from both our lips.
His gaze met mine again, this time it was earnest and beseeching. "I knew I could not leave you behind, so I planned to kill you first. I could not. I sat here with the pistol at your head for a long time. I thought of...how much you loved me, that you would make such a request, and...I could not. So I am chained here in this life, with you." He shook his head quickly. "Non, that did not sound as it should. I...will not betray you by leaving you alone, and I cannot take you with me, so I will remain, because I love you. — W.A. Hoffman

The greatest gift that anyone can give anyone is LIFE. And the greatest sin a person can do is to take away that life. NEXT to that, all rules and religions in the worldare secondary, mere words and beliefs that people CHOOSE to believe and KILL and HATE by. — James McBride

To kill wasn't the same as murder, because killing was done to protect oneself or those who were innocent- or, in war, to deny the aggressor the fruits of his onslaught and to preserve the kind of civilization that valued life and freedom above ideology, above even peace and justice, two words easily and routinely perverted by most authoritarians. — Dean Koontz

Poems are bullshit unless they are

teeth or trees or lemons piled

on a step. Or black ladies dying

of men leaving nickel hearts

beating them down. Fuck poems

and they are useful, wd they shoot

come at you, love what you are,

breathe like wrestlers, or shudder

strangely after pissing. We want live

words of the hip world live flesh &

coursing blood. Hearts Brains

Souls splintering fire. We want poems

like fists beating niggers out of Jocks

or dagger poems in the slimy bellies

of the owner-jews. Black poems to

smear on girdlemamma mulatto bitches

whose brains are red jelly stuck

between 'lizabeth taylor's toes. Stinking

Whores! we want "poems that kill. — Amiri Baraka

Scott's friends on the forum didn't know his big picture. They read a phrase like "It's going to kill me to live without him" for its precise meaning, and nothing else. They didn't read more than those nine words into the message. They didn't take offense, didn't try to talk him out of it. Didn't resent it for its presumed relativity.

"Of course it is," they said. And it was the same way they'd responded to every other thing he'd told them about himself: his thoughts on parenting, on marriage and sex, on education and race. They read what he wrote, and only what he wrote, and they responded. Not always in agreement - he'd had plenty of heated discussions over the past year on this issue or that. But he didn't need yes-men any more than he needed someone to read twenty-one extra words into the nine he'd written. — Julie Lawson Timmer

I can honestly, genuinely say that I just don't get bored. Life fascinates me The world fascinates me. Words fascinate me. People fascinate me. Even in extreme circumstances (like being in line at the DMV ... ), I have so much going on in my mind that I'm never, ever bored. Tired, cranky, occasionally wanting to kill something, but never bored. — Dani Harper

I've been writing as long as I've been able to form words. I never wrote with an idea of publishing anything until I began working on '[To Kill a] Mockingbird'. I think that what went before may have been a rather subconscious form of learning how to write, of training myself. — Harper Lee

What is life without this? which was why, in the end, it was I, and not her, who blurted out, not once, but many, many times, You'll kill me if you stop, you'll kill me if you stop, because it was also my way of bringing full circle the dream and the fantasy, me and him, the longed-for words from mouth to mouth, which was when I must have begun using obscenities that he repeated after me, softly at first, till he said, "Call me by your name and I'll call you by my name," which I'd never done in my life before and which, as soon as I said my own name as though it were his, took me to a realm I never shared with anyone in my life before, or since. — Andre Aciman

He wondered, as her blades crackled in the too quiet room, and waves of electricity spiraled around them, if he'd made a mistake. He hadn't seen her in years, but he'd heard the rumors. He hadn't truly known if she could wield those weapons with the glory and grace that drew blood and split bones.
But now, as Androma hissed, "I'm going to kill you," and her words sent a slice of fear charging through Dex's heart, he knew.
Gone was the girl he'd once known, that shivering thing he;d found bruised and broken in the wilderness of Adhira.
In her place stood the warrior he'd trained and hardened and turned into something devilishly delicious.
He reached for his gun as the Bloody Baroness attacked. — Sasha Alsberg

I love words," Mat said. "There are some deliciously pretty words out there. 'Smile.' That's always sounded like a pretty word to me. Don't you think? Or, perhaps, the words 'I promise not to kill Egwene right now for trying to touch me, the Empress, may I live forever, because we really bloody need her for the next couple of weeks or so.'" He eyeed Fortuona pointedly. — Robert Jordan

Asher waved away my words, unconcerned. "If Emilia was predisposed to fratricide, I wouldn't have made it past kindergarten," he said. "I am, however, somewhat concerned that she might kill you. — Jennifer Lynn Barnes

I will kill you, the words said. Death, death, death. "Well . . . that's pleasant," Elend said, feeling an eerie chill. — Brandon Sanderson

Love is kisses and touches and all the little things that make your body flood with emotions such as need, want, protectiveness, jealousy, hurt, and anger. It can take your breath away, or smother you at times, and make you feel like you can't go on. Your heart may race a thousand miles per minute, then slow down, and then race again, just with a simple look. Love is deadly and can kill you from the inside out if you let it. It makes you do stupid, ridiculous things, and say senseless sappy words, or listen to silly love songs, jazz, or dance in the streets, or laugh, or smile. Love is a weapon, or a drug, and can drive a person mad. I know what love is ... — Lyra Parish

We know that words cannot move mountains, but they can move the multitude; and men are more ready to fight and die for a word than for anything else. Words shape thought, stir feeling, and beget action; they kill and revive, corrupt and cure. The "men-of-words"- priests, prophets, intellectuals- have played a more decisive role in history than military leaders, statesmen, and businessmen. — Eric Hoffer

One thing that pisses me off royally is hearing drug companies denounced as the devil. I don't like giant corporations (or, in the words of Spalding Gray, "the big indifferent machine") any more than anyone else, but I really don't like wanting to kill myself. A person who denounces psychopharmaceuticals based on a political agenda is a person who has never lain crumpled in a ball in the closet, sobbing uncontrollably, face covered in Sharpie, throat raw from induced vomiting. Accordingly, that person should be thankful and shut the hell up. — Stacy Pershall

Use the words that live inside your head. And if the words that live inside your head are those of a sentimental Victorian troubadour, then please close your head in a door jamb until you kill all that overwrought prose in an act of brain damage. — Chuck Wendig

You burn the paper, but not the words. You silence the words, but not the thoughts. You kill the thoughts only if you kill the man. And you will find that his thoughts rise again in the minds of others - twice as strong as before. — Linda Sue Park

I won't let him come between us, Konnor," Grayson promised, refusing to let go. "I feel so close to you ... more than best friends. It's like we're soul mates. You're the part of me that I've always been missing. And he'll have to kill me to get me away from you," he swore, unknowingly cementing his place in Konnor's heart with the words. He felt exactly the same. — Elaine White

To kiss and to kill are similar words to eyes that focus with difficulty. — Patrick White

He mouths something so slowly that his snarling lips articulate the sound of each and every letter, but I read them as though his silent words blast as loud as a battle cry. "Kill her! — Michelle Warren

The four words of power. Obey, Kill, Protect, and Die. Words so primal, so dangerous, so powerful that they commanded the raw magic itself. — Ilona Andrews

Those who do not speak the words of God with humility must be advised that when they apply medicine to the sick, they must first inspect the poison of their own infection, or else by attempting to heal others, they kill themselves. — Gregory The Great

As the memory of that day echoed through her, she remembered the words Sam kept screaming at Arobynn, as the King of the Assassins beat her, the words that she'd somehow forgotten in the fog of pain: I'll kill you! Sam had said it like he meant it. He'd bellowed it, again and again and again ... — Sarah J. Maas

Well, I'm sure you know that our country is the only so-called advanced nation that still has a death penalty. And torture chambers. I mean, why screw around? But listen: If anyone here should wind up on a gurney in a lethal-injection facility, maybe the one at Terre Haute, here is what your last words should be: "This will certainly teach me a lesson." If Jesus were alive today, we would kill him with lethal injection. I call that progress. We would have to kill him for the same reason he was killed the first time. His ideas are just too liberal. — Kurt Vonnegut

Why do we wear out so quickly, when the elements of which we are composed are indestructible? What is it that wears out? Not that of which we are made, that is certain. We wither and fade away, we perish, because the desire to live is extinguished. And why does this most potent flame die out? For lack of faith. From the time we are born we are told that we are mortal. From the time we are able to understand words we are taught that we must kill in order to survive. In season and out we are reminded that, no matter how intelligently, reasonably or wisely we live, we shall become sick and die. We are inoculated with the idea of death almost from birth. Is it any wonder that we die? — Henry Miller

I pray that you will understand the words of Jesus, "Love one another as I have loved you." Ask yourself "How has he loved me? Do I really love others in the same way?" Unless this love is among us, we can kill ourselves with work and it will only be work, not love. Work without love is slavery. — Mother Teresa

Don't make me out to be something worth saving. We both know I'm a waste." His voice was so quiet. "I wish I was better at telling you why you have to stay here. I wish I could put into words the part of my heart that has your name written on it. That part hurts right now. You have to be here. You love life too much. You're so important. I wish I could make you understand this." He tried to smile at her valiant efforts. "I would keep you if I could. You can sleep here, right on this couch. Beckett, I will let you hold this baby when it comes." She touched her stomach. "Does that tell you how much you mean to me? It's the only thing I can come up with." He shrugged. "Mouse would be disappointed. He'd feel like he didn't do his job if you died ... Eve loves you. Wherever she is - in this strip club - is that what you've been wishing for?" Beckett shook his head. "No, right? She loves you. You can't kill someone she loves. You just can't. — Debra Anastasia

Words can heal, words can also kill. Choose your words carefully so that you'll pull people away from their emotional graves rather than pushing them into it! Inspire, don't insult! — Israelmore Ayivor

By the time they passed Malindi in the early-afternoon hours, Munroe could feel the syntax, the grammar, the resonance of patterns of the country's lingua franca beginning to form, could feel the tension relaxing now that the key to the aural lock had been handed over, and soon enough, over time and of its own accord, her ability to speak would grow and she would rapidly become more and more fluent.

This same poisonous gift - this savant like ability to visualize the way the words configured into shapes - had defined her life and turned her into what she was now. Without language, there would have been no gunrunning, without gunrunning no nights in the jungle fighting off the worst of human predators, without the nights, no instinct of self-preservation and the speed and the need to kill that had marked her every moment, waking and sleeping, since. — Taylor Stevens

There's such a big difference between being dead and alive, I told myself, the greatest gift that anyone can give anyone else is life. And the greatest sin a person can do to another is to take away that life. Next to that, all the rules and religions in the world are secondary; mere words and beliefs that people choose to believe and kill and hate by. My life won't be lived that way, and neither, I hope, will my children's. — James McBride

Kit opened his eyes.
"Where is she?"
The voice was high and thin and directly by his left ear-also the location of the blade pressed up hard against his jawline.
"Where is she?" the voice demanded again, whispery words nearly spilling over one another in fury. "Tell me, you bastard! I'll kill you!"
Options flitted through his mind: this person was small, this person was young, it smelled like an urchin, the blade felt like a dagger or dirk. He could break its arm or its neck, he could Turn and crush it from behind or more simply rip off its head-and the only thing that kept his body motionless in the bed was the realization that the creature was obviously speaking of Rue.
"Zane," she said then, a single word that broke like a calm dream through the chamber. "Please do not kill the Marquess of Langford."
-Zane, Kit, & Rue — Shana Abe

No one survives beyond the fence. At least that's what my father always told me when I was a child. But I'm not a little girl anymore, and I no longer believe in the words of my father. He told me the Lattimers were cruel and deserved to die. He told me my only choice was to kill the boy I loved. He has been wrong about so many things. And I'm determined that he's going to be wrong about my survival as well. — Amy Engel

I found the words to kill the love, didn't I -" she said, "the love that couldn't be killed? — Kurt Vonnegut

Are you in?" I roll my eyes and try to kiss him again, but he won't let me. I pinch his nipples, and all he does is wink and growl at me. "Say it."
"Fuck you"
"We'll get there, Naomi. Be patient. But first, you have to say it." I keep glaring, but I feel my body melting, my shields and my walls crashing down in flames. "Say you're mine, tell me that you're my girlfriend."
"You're my boyfriend," I say, and the words nearly kill me. "That's all you get for now. Best I can fucking do. — C.M. Stunich

Artham felt lighter and stronger, and for the first time in nine years, his mind was clear and sure. The words to a hundred of his own poems scrolled across his memory; he saw faces of old friends, battles he had fought, and even the most terrible moments of his life - and yet he remained himself. The wild animal inside that he had struggled so long to kill pulsed with power, but it was no longer his master. He rode the pain like a knight rides a horse. ...
Artham's eyes watered from the wind and from the speed and from the magnificent beauty of the land arrayed below him. Water streaked from the corners of his eyes ... and , in the vicious cold froze into silvery jewels.
He would have to write a poem about this. — Andrew Peterson

She's just a friend. Four words that could possibly kill any woman, but they made me smile... And the castle was my witness. — Cecelia Ahern

Every time I write about life, I must kill and eat the actual event. I mean to say that my words are scavengers who need to devour lifeless substance if they are to survive as non-fiction. The event is dead, it ceased to be as soon as it happened. The closest I can come to resurrecting the past is to feed my memories to a ravenous swarm of sentences, punctuation and paragraphs. They chew up and digest the things I remember, producing a waste product I think of as an honest account. Reality suffers a second death through this process. False memories, both organic and manufactured, erase the genuine article in order to reassemble the factors into a serviceable construct. True story. — Alex Bosworth

The point is, did she kill that woman? If I thought she did I would bow out quick - I would already have bowed out because it would have been hopeless. But she didn't One will get you ten that she didn't. If she had -
The interruption wasn't words; it was her lips against mine and her palms covering my ears. If she had been Wolfe's client I would have shoved her off quick, since that sort of demonstration only ruffles him, but she was mine and there was no point in hurting her feelings. I even patted her shoulder. When she was through I resumed. — Rex Stout

Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That's above and beyond everything else, and it's not a mental complaint-it's a physical thing, like it's physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don't come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people's words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet. — Ned Vizzini

I thought about Stockhausen. What had prompted him to call the attacks a work of art? For him, I thought, it was not a matter of finding death beautiful, but rather seeing that someone had taken liberties in reality that an artist could only dream of. That was both the virtue and the vice of art. In art, you can kill with impunity - destroy the world, perpetrate a holocaust, whip up the apocalypse. But it's only art. You can blow up five million people in an opera and not have anywhere near the impact of blowing up five thousand in reality. Stockhausen seemed to realize this, since the terrorism caused him to feel that being a composer was nothing. In that sense, his words were a moral statement about the limits of art, not an immoral statement about aestheticizing destruction. — Supervert

I knew they would kill me when they found out, but ... " He struggled for words, releasing a sharp breath. "I think I realized that I would rather die because I betrayed them, than live because I betrayed you. — Marissa Meyer

My ministers have informed me that Alyss is ridding her land of Glass Eyes."
Overriding the imperative that Redd embedded in them is harder than she thought," added Ripkins.
In other words, they're designed to kill and nothing more."
The bodygaurds bowed that this was so.
Perhaps the trick is not the override their imperative," Arch mused, "but the reprogram them to acknowledge a differnent master. Everyone in Woderland
even the otherwise rebellious Redd Heart
is, was, or always has been occupied with inventing things. But what good are things if there no clever schemes in which to use them? I putthings to unexpected and imaginative use."
Seeing Redd — Frank Beddor

He might have known that she would do this; she had never cared for him, she had made a fool of him from the beginning; she had no pity, she had no kindness, she had no charity. The only thing was to accept the inevitable. The pain he was suffering was horrible, he would sooner be dead than endure it; and the thought came to him that it would be better to finish with the whole thing: he might throw himself in the river or put his neck on a railway line; but he had no sooner set the thought into words than he rebelled against it. His reason told him that he would get over his unhappiness in time; if he tried with all his might he could forget her; and it would be grotesque to kill himself on account of a vulgar slut. — W. Somerset Maugham