That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine. I dare say I would’ve cut his throat had not the unmentionables distracted me from doing so.
Famous murderers are only famous because they get caught. The best killers are those whose names we shall never know.
And though it would not be long before even the daft Mr. Collins would discover her condition, and be forced to behead her, she did not seem to ask for compassion. Her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry, and her ever deepening lust for tender morsels of savory brains had not yet lost their charm.
A man can be whip smart and witty and caught up in the gale of life, chatting up roomfuls of people and making them laugh till their teeth damn near fall out, and at the same time, he can be the world’s loneliest, most miserable creature.
We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us.
When she remembered the haughty style of his address, she dreamt of watching his eyes glaze over as she choked the life from his body;.
That righteous anger quickly sharpens into determination. Determination, of course, being nothing more than anger with brakes and a steering wheel.
Nothing kills a vampire as quickly as the past.
In a way, it was the beginning of something I’d long feared: that vampires would become part of the popular culture. That people would be too busy worshiping them or imitating them or even laughing at them – and forget to fear them.
Try telling a starving vampire to control himself when there’s warm blood on his lips. You’d have as much luck telling a burning man not to scream.
Jane and Elizabeth tried to explain that all five of them were capable of fending for themselves; that they could make tolerable fortunes as bodyguards, assassins, or mercenaries if need be.
If I have wounded your sister’s feelings, it was done only as a consequence of affection for my friend, and the belief that Miss Bennet had been cursed to wander the earth in search of brains.
I’d heard it said that “when a man is tired of moving, he moves to New York, and the movement comes to him.
Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Sturges. Some of my closest friends are dead.
I shall never relinquish my sword for a ring. The right man wouldn’t ask me to.
I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family library in such days as these. What have we to do but stay indoors and read till the cure is at last discovered?
My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that Mr. Collins, who seems always eager to talk of Heaven, may be dispatched there by a horde of zombies before I am dead.
There’s something about the way blood tastes in New York City. It’s unlike any blood anywhere else in the world.
By being human, I was actually being inhumane. My hesitation to embrace my new abilities was causing needless suffering. Once you cross that moral threshold – once you decide to kill a man who hasn’t threatened or wronged you – better to do it quickly, or whatever moral high ground you’re standing on gets washed away by their blood.
Perspective,” said Duell. “That’s your problem, ’tis. I’m a vampire. I love killin’, I love fuckin’, and I love watching the world go by. That’s what I am. Question is, what the ’ell are you?