Rick Yancey Quotes

Time for the world to end.

I was a slave to something he believed to be silly and superstitious: the idea that all life was worth defending and that nothing justified surrender to the forces of destruction.

Perhaps God waits for us to be empty, so he may fill us with himself.

A word of advice, Will Henry. When a person of the female gender says she wants to show you something, run the other way. The odds are it is not something you wish to see.

Because we will die, but at least we will die unbroken.

I thought I knew what loneliness was before he found me, but I had no clue. You don't know what real loneliness is until you've known the opposite.

Good God, man, what is that smell?" He eyed with disgust the doctor's filthy cloak. "Life," answered the doctor.

Do you know how to tell who the enemy is, Cassie?

I didn't show up here to give your life purpose now that your life's over. That's up to you to figure out.

I'm one, too," he said. "What?" He spit a wad of blood and mucus into the dirt. "A virgin." What a shock. "What makes you think I'm a virgin?" I asked. "You wouldn't have hit me if you weren't.

And no answer when we sent our message. Something like, "Hello, welcome to Earth. Hope you enjoy your stay. Please don't kill us.

There's an old saying about truth setting you free. Don't buy it. Sometimes the truth slams the cell door shut and throws a thousand bolts.

And red is not the color of apples or roses or the dresses that pretty girls wear in the summertime. That is not the color of red at all.

Memories can bring comfort to the old and infirm, but memories can also be implacable foes, a malicious army of temporal ghosts forever pillaging the long-sought-after peace of our twilight years.

But monsters, I now know, come in all shapes and sizes, and only their appetite for human flesh defines them.

Adolphus is not at his desk. That means he is somewhere in the Monstrumarium, has gone home for the day, or is dead.

Dr. Warthrop chopped off my finger with a butcher knife.

How oft do they rescue or ruin us, through whimsy or design or a combination of both, the adults to whom we entrust our care!

Our enemy is fear. Blinding, reason-killing fear. Fear consumes the truth and poisons all the evidence, leading us to false assumptions and irrational conclusions.

It isn't up to me to break his heart; that's time's job.

It's an either/or world now.

Sarcasm doesn't appear to work on him. If that's true, I'm in trouble: It's my normal mode of communication.

We are the clay, and you are Michelangelo. And we will be your masterpiece.

When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.

And then Evan Walker kisses me.

In case you're an alien and you're reading this: BITE ME.

Oh, Will Henry. After all we have been through, how could I send you away now, at our most critical hour? You are indispensable to me.

It wasn't aliens that first made us gear up for war; it was our fellow humans.

You never know when the truth will come home. You can't choose the time. The time chooses you.

Great sci-fi has never shied from tackling the Big Questions, though really great sci-fi never forgets to entertain us along the way. Shock and awe applies to art, as well.

Maybe you reach a certain point in evolution where boredom is the greatest threat to your survival. Maybe this isn't a planetary takeover at all, but a game. Like a kid pulling wings off flies.

When you look death in the eye and death blinks first, nothing seems impossible.

It was the price of survival. The cost of his people's last, desperate gamble: To rid his new home of humanity, he had to become human. And being human, he had to overcome his humanity.

I don't care what the stars say about how small we are. One, even the smallest, weakest, most insignificant one, matters.

A man lies upon the floor, spreads his arms, and transforms himself into a ship of a thousand sails.

Just because a man is a homicidal maniac doesn't make him wrong.

I was woefully ignorant in the social graces. I was being raised, after all, by Pellinore Warthrop.

Prayers and promises. The one his sister made to him. The unspoken one I made to my sister. Prayers are promises, too, and these are the days of broken promises.

I didn't save you," he whispers, lips tickling my eyelashes. "You saved me.

There are things that are too terrible to remember, and there are things that are almost too wonderful to recall.

You are the human clay," Vosch whispers fiercely in my ear. "And I am Michelangelo. I am the master builder, and you will be my masterpiece.

There are those who labor in the darkness, that the rest of us might live in the light.

Because promises matter. They matter now more than ever.

I don't move. I wait behind my log, terrified. Over the past ten minutes, it's become such a dear friend, I consider naming it: Howard, my pet log.

That's a stupid question,' said Malachi. 'Because he didn't warn him. He didn't warn anyone.' 'No, it's a philosophical question,' Kearns corrected him. 'Which makes it useless, not stupid.

I start to unbutton his shirt. "Got to get these clothes off," I mutter. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that." Smile. Lopsided. Sexy.

Then I strip the pants away from each leg, like peeling a banana. That's it, the perfect metaphor: peeling a banana.

There are times when fear is not our enemy. There are times when fear is our truest, sometimes only, friend.

But we fall only that we might rise, Alfred. All of us fall; all of us, as you say, screw up. Falling is not important. It is how we get up after the fall that's important.

To hell with monsters and to hell with men. There is no difference to me.