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3978477
|
"Val turned, still naked, still impossibly beautiful. Only the gore spattered on his belly, chest, and arm, marred his perfection. He walked toward her and she couldn't help it. She backed away from him. He smiled. Sweetly. Like a boy. The dagger still in his left hand. And caught her arm with his right hand. "This is who I am, Seraphine. Naked, with blade and blood. I am vengeance. I am hate. I am sin personified. Never mistake me for the hero of this tale, for I am not and shall never be. I am the villain." And he laid his lips over hers and pushed his hot tongue into her mouth and kissed her until she couldn't breathe and it was only later that she found the bloodstains on her dress. Her lips had been sweet, like ripe figs, her mouth a cavern of delight. But her eyes- those dark inquisitor's eyes- had held only horror and disgust. Val sipped his China tea the next morning and gazed out the window. The sun shone on his garden, giving the illusion of warmth, though his empty chest was ice-cold. He could have explained to her that a razor-sharp blade was kinder than a hangman's noose. That death delivered in seconds with a few thrusts was preferable to a laughing, jabbering mob, gleeful at the jerking, agonizing execution. But those saint's eyes would've seen the hypocrisy."
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|
murder
mentally
yandere
bridget-crumb
val-napier
passionate-kiss
violent
|
Elizabeth Hoyt |
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0321710
|
When i believe in everything, I could not see the actors semicircled around a studio microphone flipping the pages of scripts in unison. I only heard the voices, resonant, electric, adult, accusing each other of murder.
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|
murder
voices
radio
|
Billy Collins |
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eb30a67
|
She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the lake.
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|
murder
joanne
hannah-swensen
mystery
|
Joanne Fluke |
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547d243
|
When a guy goes out there and kills somebody, he might look at himself as the winner. But in truth he's also a loser, because now he would be lost in the system. If you were listening to the news recently, some people you know well are doing 45, and 64 years for murder. They might have won their fight, but they lost their lives to the system. Franco 'Co' Bethel, former gang leader and right hand man to Scrooge.
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|
murder
gang-killings
killings
lost-in-the-system
lost-to-the-system
prison-life
street-fights
gang-fights
thug-life
convicted-for-murder
loser
the-system
fighting
prison
|
Drexel Deal |
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d88476a
|
Hope is a slighter, tougher thing even than trust, he thought, pacing his room as the soundless, vague lightning flashed overhead. In a good season one trusts life; in a bad season one only hopes, But they are of the same essence: they are the mind's indispensable relationship with other minds, with the world, and with time. Without trust, a man lives, but not a human life; without hope, he dies. When there is no relationship, where hands do not touch, emotion atrophies in void and intelligence goes sterile and obsessed. Between men the only link left is that of owner to slave, or murderer to victim.
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|
murder
human
trust
victim
slave
|
Ursula K. Le Guin |
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93fbd3c
|
"Maybe a holiday miracle will change Mearth's awful behavior," Mandy suggested with optimism. "The only holiday miracle around here is that Mearth hasn't murdered us both yet," said Alecto, lighting another cigarette, his hands shaking erratically. He looked exhausted and terrified, his gray eyes soulless. "Do you know what Mearth likes, Alecto?" Mandy questioned. "Vegetables, she likes celery a lot, and lettuce," Alecto responded in a quiet monotone. "I don't know what else she likes. I've never asked her." "Well, she has to like something... doesn't everyone?" "Not her, Mandy Valems."
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|
present
miracle
murder
humor
going-green
hoiday
lettuce
mother-earth
comedy
cigarette
christmas
vegetables
gift
|
Rebecca McNutt |
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ba8cc44
|
The depths cleared again. Something moved in them that was not a board. It rose slowly, with an infinitely careless languor, a long dark twisted something that rolled lazily in the water as it rose. It broke surface casually, lightly, without haste. I saw wool, sodden and black, a leather jerkin blacker than ink, a pair of slacks. I saw shoes and something that bulged nastily between the shoes and the cuffs of the slacks. I saw a wave of dark blond hair straighten out in the water and hold still for a brief instant as if with a calculated effect, and then swirl into a tangle again.
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|
murder
noir-mystery
private-investigator
|
Raymond Chandler |
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05b2a0f
|
The need to forgive the officer would not have moved me because, even then, in some inchoate form. I knew that Prince was not killed by a single officer so much as he was murdered by his country and all the fears that have marked it from birth.
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|
killing
murder
police
|
Ta-Nehisi Coates |
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802a02b
|
The reason people don't buy conspiracy theories is they think 'conspiracy' means everybody's on the same program. That's not how it works. Everybody's got a different program. They just all want the same guy dead. Socrates was a gadfly, but I bet he took time out to screw somebody's wife.
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|
murder
socrates
conspiracy-theories
|
James Lee Burke |
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b31eb5c
|
The dead are mute, but the living still have voice with which to protest their innocence. Often their objections are noisy and pious, impossible to refute since the person who could condemn them has been silenced forever.
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murder
innocence
|
Sue Grafton |
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6fea1d8
|
But, if I dare say it, it wasn't until I had helped kill a man that I realized how elusive and complex an act a murder can actually be, and not necessarily attributable to one dramatic motive.
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|
murder
the-secret-history
motive
psychology
|
Donna Tartt |
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ded94c9
|
"(A murderer about their victim:) "He was an expert in vicarious death. I should like to have been there to see how he enjoyed the real thing."
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|
murder
vicarious-doings
|
P.D. James |
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29adf0f
|
Of course, the happy shutterbug couldn't have known that his picture of a dildo keel would soon inspire a plot leading to murder and ensnare human beings like dolphins in a gill net. For he was just a San Diego cop who drove a boat, not a true man of the sea. Not one who understands in his soul that the actions of people are like the tides that chase the moon but invariably come crashing back, with all manner of thrashing things roiling in their foamy wake.
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|
murder
sea
human-nature
|
Joseph Wambaugh |
|
a6d4174
|
Today he became a killer, or else a corpse.
|
|
murder
death
killer
|
Eoin Colfer |
|
6feeee9
|
The urge to fight, to maul, to murder: it is the greatest cancer that afflicts mankind. It obliterates the body of the victim, and the spirit of the the one who strikes the blow. I have seen it...
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|
mankind
murder
spirit
maul
cancer
fight
|
Garth Ennis |
|
9de260f
|
A free woman in an unfree society will be a monster. Her freedom will be a condition of personal privilege that deprives those on which she exercises it of her own freedom. The most extreme kind of this deprivation is murder. These women murder.
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|
murder
|
Angela Carter |
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51cccea
|
At that moment Sonny noticed that the other car had not kept going but had parked a few feet ahead, still blocking his way. At that same moment his lateral vision caught sight of another man in the darkened tollbooth to his right. But he did not have time to think about that because two men came out of the car parked in front and walked toward him. The toll collector still had not appeared. And then in the fraction of a second before anything actually happened, Santino Corleone he knew he was a dead man. And in that moment his mind was lucid, drained of all violence, as if the hidden fear finally real and present had purified him.
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|
violence
murder
poetry
|
Mario Puzo |
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3753735
|
"So you shoot people," she said quietly. "You're a killer." "Me? How?" "The papers and the police fixed it up nicely. But I don't believe everything I read." "Oh, you think I accounted for Geiger - or Brody-or both of them." She didn't say anything. "I didn't have to," I said. "I might have. I suppose, and got away with it. Neither of them would have hesitated to throw lead at." "That makes you a killer at heart, like all cops." "Oh, nuts."
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|
murder
noir-style
detective-novel
|
Raymond Chandler |
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65aa767
|
Me, Mia. Mama mia, Mia. Otis is rigor mortis.
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|
murder
humor
|
Nelson DeMille |
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b0fb6e6
|
In terms of having an experience, seriously contemplating a murder was almost as good as going through with it, and it had the added benefit of not entailing risk. Between prison and no prison, no prison was clearly preferable.
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|
murder
risk
prison
|
Jonathan Franzen |
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65abbc7
|
A surprising percentage of your own society, with all your heritage of murder, would like to believe that Life survives by going to the supermarket. So the ideal would be to train cattle to make butcher knives and take turns cutting each other up at a convenient location.
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|
murder
meat-consumption
supermarket
meat
|
Spider Robinson |
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9ea282d
|
"Seriously," the banker went on, "what do you investigate? I have a feeling you do more than find stray kittens and bring home lost babies." "Murder."
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|
murder
stray-kittens
|
Chris Bohjalian |
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b47e859
|
The expense of eating is, in great part, the resistance the second life offers to being eaten.
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|
murder
ethics
|
Spider Robinson |
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92c5fb3
|
One day a baking competition, another a murder.
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|
murder
|
M.C. Beaton |
|
97ba715
|
Terrell is weeping soundlessly, and despite the guard's objection, he raises his hand up to the glass. Geraldine mimics him, lining her fingers up with his. It's lonely to think that one little sheet of glass could create such a thick distance between them, but all the same, regardless of what he's done, he's still one of the closest friends she has.
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|
murder
friendship
guard
jail
glass
hand
friend
prison
crime
|
Rebecca McNutt |
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c80622b
|
...I'll tell you something else too; by the time we're through we shall have had all we can stand of this North woman. I wouldn't mind betting she thinks we have nothing better to do than run around in circles while she gets on with this three-act problem play of hers.
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|
murder
humorous
|
Georgette Heyer |
|
5410e78
|
... murder wol out
|
|
murder
humanity
inevitability
|
Geoffrey Chaucer |
|
cb4707e
|
I'm not sure what form I expected the threat to take; a police car actually stopping outside, a powerfully built black man darting up the drive? I had several dreams of siege, in which the house became a frail slatted box, shadowy and exquisite within, the walls all cracked and bleached louvres which fell to powder as one brushed against them. In one dream Arthur and I were there, and others, old school friends, a gaggle of black kids from the Shaft, my grandfather tearful and hopeless. We knew we had no chance of surviving the violence that surrounded us, closing in fast, and I was gripped by a nauseating terror. I woke up in the certain knowledge that I was about to die: the bedsprings were ticking from the sprinting vehemence of my heartbeat. I didn't dare go back to sleep and after a while sat up and read, while Arthur slept deeply beside me. It took days to lose the mood of the dream, and its power to prickle my scalp. The neighbourhood seemed eerily impregnated with it, and its passing made possible a new confidence, as if a sentence had been lifted.
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|
sleep
murder
gay
|
Alan Hollinghurst |