#murder

One of my favorite dialogue pieces from Black Creek Burning: “It was a polite, white lie,” Brie whispered. “I’ll have to remember you think that way,” Nathan said. ↗

— R.T. Wolfe

#black-creek-burning #gardening #murder #romantic-suspense #sweet

If you're that obsessed with someone, why would you kill her? Humans are full of contradictions. ↗

— Ai Yazawa

#manga #murder #nana #nobuo #obsession

Annabelle, I'm going to kill you!" I cried, frowning at the mess. Then I glanced down the stairway and gasped. It looked like someone had beaten me to it. ↗

— Cleo Coyle

#mystery #suspense #thriller #thriller

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

#cult #evil #evil-men #hitler #holocaust

I read true crime books, and I read when people do case studies of stuff. I'm into books like that. Case studies or forensics or murder - all that good stuff. ↗

— Tom Araya

#case #crime #forensics #good #i

Murder is commoner among cooks than among members of any other profession. ↗

— W. H. Auden

#any #commoner #cooks #members #murder

I was on Murder She Wrote with Angela Lansbury. She was fantastic... she was lovely to everyone, she was always on time, prepared. ↗

— Jane Badler

#angela #everyone #fantastic #i #lovely

Better murder an infant in its cradle than nurse an unacted desire. ↗

— William Blake

#cradle #desire #infant #murder #nurse

I accept the Old Testament as more of an action movie: blood, car chases, evacuations, a lot of special effects, seas dividing, mass murder, adultery. The children of God are running amok, wayward. Maybe that's why they're so relatable. ↗

— Bono

#action #action movie #adultery #blood #car

He scraped through the dark sand to the center house, two stories, both pouring bands of light into the fog. There was warmth and gaiety within, through the downstairs window he could see young people gathered around a piano, their singing mocking the forces abroad on this cruel night. She was there, proptected by happiness and song and the good. He was separated from her only by a sand yard and a dark fence, by a lighted window and by her protectors. He stood there until he was trembling with pity and rage. Then he fled, but his flight was slow as the flight in a dream, impeded by the deep sand and the blurring hands of the fog. He fled from the goodness of that home, and his hatred for Laurel throttled his brain. If she had come back to him, he would not be shut out, an outcast in a strange, cold world. ↗

— Dorothy B. Hughes

#masculinity #murder #dreams