Creepy Narrators Quotes

Oh Beck, I love reading your e-mail. Learning your life. And I am careful; I always mark new messages unread so that you won't get alarmed. My good fortune doesn't stop there; You prefer e-mail. You don't like texting. So this means that I am not missing out on all that much communication. You wrote an "essay" for some blog in which you stated that "e-mails last forever. You can search for any word at any time and see everything you ever said to anyone about that one word. Texts go away." I love you for wanting a record. I love your records for being so accessible and I'm so full of you, your calendar of caloric intake and hookups and menstrual moments, your self-portraits you don't publish, your recipes and exercises. You will know me soon too, I promise. ~ Caroline Kepnes

First-person narrators can't die, so as long as we keep telling the story of our own lives we're safe. Ha bloody fucking Ha. ~ Pat Barker

His face flushed, and I felt like cheering. "Yes," he said stiffly. "Besides de vings."
"Hmm. Besides de vings." Nudge tapped one finger against her chin. "Um ... " Her face brightened. "I once ate nine Snickers bars in one sitting. Without barfing. That was a record!"
"Hardly a special talent," ter Borcht said witheringly.
Nudge was offended. "Yeah? Let's see YOU do it." ...
... "I vill now eat nine Snickers bars," Gazzy said in a perfect, creepy imitation of ter Borcht's voice, "visout bahfing."
~ James Patterson

No one wants to learn an instrument, Rachel. It's grueling repetition. And besides, you're too old to start. Concert violinists who learn the traditional way begin when they're six or seven."
Risa can't help but listen to the irritating conversation taking place between the well-dressed woman and her fashionably disheveled teenage daughter.
"It's bad enough they'd be messing in my brain and giving me a NeuroWeave," the girl whines. "But why do I have to have the hands, too? I like my hands!"
The mother laughs. "Honey, you've got your father's stubby, chubby little fingers. Trading up will only do you good in life, and it's common knowledge that a musical NeuroWeave requires muscle memory to complete the brain-body connection."
"There are no muscles in the fingers!" the girl announces triumphantly. "I learned that in school."
The mother gives her a long-suffering sigh.
"Think of them like a pair of gloves, Rachel. Fancy silk gloves, like a princess wears."
Risa can't stand it anymore. Making sure she's low enough so that her face can't be seen, she gets up, and as she walks past them, she says, "You'll have someone else's fingerprints. ~ Neal Shusterman

Okay," I began. "You're too old for me. You're scary. It's creepy that you were so all over my mom and now you're all over me. ~ Lili St. Crow

Personally speaking, when everything is boiled down to the marrow, I think the reason Reddit tolerates the creepy forums has to do with money more than anything else. ~ John Scalzi

This is isn't going to become one of those creepy situations where you show up at all hours of the night to watch me sleep, is it? he asks playfully. ~ Cynthia Hand

By definition, memoir demands a certain degree of introspection and self-disclosure: In order to fully engage a reader, the narrator has to make herself known, has to allow her own self-awareness to inform the events she describes. ~ Caroline Knapp

You're awfully quiet, Princess," Puck said as he arranged the firewood into
a tepee. His slanted green eyes shot me a knowing look. "In fact, you haven't said a word since his royal iciness left. What's wrong?"
"Oh." I cast about for an excuse. No way was I telling Puck about my
feelings for Ash. He'd probably challenge him to a duel the moment he walked through the door. "I ... um ... I'm just weirded out, you know, with all those wiremen bodies around. It's kinda creepy, like they might come to life and attack us while we're sleeping. ~ Julie Kagawa

Recognizing the connection to All Things, even in creepy moments, keeps me true to my animistic perspective. Finding growth from them is my choice. ~ S. Kelley Harrell

Too many poets are insufficiently interested in story. Their poems could be improved if they gave in more to the strictures of fiction: the establishment of a clear dramatic situation, and a greater awareness that first-person narrators are also characters and must be treated as such by their authors. The true lyric poet, of course, is exempt from this. But many poets wrongly think they are lyric poets. ~ Stephen Dunn

Sometimes, you've got to be in a place. You're just another guy. You can just blend in. I live out in the wilds of nowhere, out in Jersey. Even there, there's sometimes problems. College students like journey out there and show up at 11 o'clock at night, on my porch, looking into the door not saying anything. My wife and I are sitting there; it's really creepy. ~ Lou Reed

What did the Faerie that attacked you look like?"
"Super creepy. Ripped jeans, weird tattoos, bad hair. And, come to think of it, really nice boots ... "
"Where?"
"On his feet."
Sonny winced and rubbed his temples. "Where were you attacked, Kelley?"
"Okay, see ... that was a joke. ~ Lesley Livingston

I'll never forget my 24th birthday when my tooth got punched out. And for a second I was like, it would be really hilarious if I sold it on eBay. But I can't, that's just too creepy. I don't think I can go there. ~ Evan Rachel Wood

Rage, or something as equally dense and seething, was hanging from every chandelier, resentment woven into thick carpets padding the room, hatred flickering underneath every lampshade. The floor bathed in a creepy shadow, a particular darkness that had seeped into the walls, and right now was rolling across my converse so I couldn't see them. Absolute darkness. ~ Kami Garcia

I learned capacity for self-reflection very early, finding it through interior monologues that books are so good at and that visual media is so bad at because it's so boring - nothing's happening. In a book, you can be inside the narrator's head for 50 pages, and nothing needs to happen. Then you learn to be inside your own head without something needing to happen. It's a very good antidote to a crazy, restless, "what's next?" culture - that you can just be in your own head and nothing is happening except that this is a rich place. I love that. ~ Jeanette Winterson

I guess with artificial intelligence, just like with natural intelligence, there can be a way-creepy side. ~ Dean Koontz

Okay, I'm sorry for not turning up yesterday." His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran to catch up with me. "Don't be mad. Even though you're sexy as hell when you are." He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop.
"Don't touch me," I shouted. "Just leave me alone. Wherever I go, there you are being creepy and pervy. I'm sick of this, Marshall. And, you know what? I don't give a shit about your secrets. Keep them. I hope they make you feel all warm and snugly at night. ~ C. Gray

The sleepless hum of the city was abidingly in his ears, and the lamps that dotted the misty pavements stared at him blinkingly all along the route. The tall black buildings rose up grimly into the night; the faces that flitted to and fro along the pavements, kept ever sliding past him, melting into the darkness; and the cabs and 'buses, still astir in the streets, had a ghostly air as they vanished in the gloom.

("An Unexpected Journey") ~ J.H. Pearce

There comes a time or two in life when you should face isolation. No, you have to. Constantly being accompanied, having someone by your side always and forever -- that is far more abnormal and creepy. I'm positive you can only learn and feel certain things when you're alone. If there are lessons to gain from having friends, then so also are there lessons from not having friends. These two things are two sides of the same coin and should be treated as equally valuable. So this moment, too, will also have worth for that girl. ~ Wataru Watari

It's like, you can't have any fun, and if you do have fun, if you do your own thing, you're considered crazy and should be in a mental institution. Now, that's what I find creepy. I'm eccentric. I am not messed up. ~ Crispin Glover

Thus we come to the problem of determining what the poem is 'about.' Charles Altieri notes that '[a]n expression of the self can be one that is intended, the self's act, or one that is symptomatic, the act of a self not in control of what it manifests'(24) In 'Yankee Doodle,' and to a lesser extent in '$$$$$$," the interesting aspects of the poem are not 'the intended expression of the self.' The lack of explicitness is not suggestive in any positive sense because we feel that were things to be spelled out, this would weaken, not strengthen, the narrator's case by revealing the unacknowledged irrationality at the root of it. ~ Russell Harrison

The horse is dead," she says and squeezes Soldier's hand. "From here we walk."
"Anyone ever told you you're sort of a creepy kid?" Odd Willie asks.
"All the damn time," Emmie tells him. "I don't bother keeping count anymore. ~ Caitlin R. Kiernan

Parents can be very influential in designing those little creepy-crawlers that jump around in your mind for the rest of your life. It's the fear of not being good enough. ~ Kim Basinger

So weird."
"What?"
He tipped forward. "I still want to touch you."
My eyes widened. "You're an odd, creepy demon prince."
Roth grinned.
"Well, you still creep me out," Cayman announced as Roth leaned farther toward me, one hand sliding across the table.
"No touching," Zayne warned.
The demon prince pouted as he pulled his hand back. "That's no fun. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

And I met Madeline's necromancer. His name's Luca."
"A death detector?" Tod made a face. "That's creepy."
"It gets weirder. He's dating Sophie."
"On purpose? ~ Rachel Vincent

My mother looked at my dad and didn't know him. Didn't know where she was. Who she was. What was happening to her. There was this, like, permanent, creepy smile, cracked lips pulled back from bleeding gums, her teeth stained with blood. Sounds came out of her mouth, but they weren't words. The place in her brain that made words was packed with virus, and the virus didn't know language - it knew only how to make more of itself. And then my mother died in a fury of jerks and gargled screams, her uninvited guests rocketing out of every orifice, because she was done, they'd used her up, time to turn off the lights and find a new home. ~ Rick Yancey

What are you reading?" " 'Ryder' by Greta Maloney," he said, closing the book and placing it back into his rucksack. "Any good?" I asked, wanting to find another subject to talk about other than my nightmare. "It's creepy," he smiled at me. ~ Tim O'Rourke

I find it appalling that the Church claims Mary consented at the age of thirteen to become the mother of God."

"But she did," James said. "There is ample evidence to show she consented."

"Isn't that the classic defense of the pedophile?" Helena asked. "In Christ's time and even today in some countries in the Middle East and India, child marriages are customary. But that doesn't make it right. In Europe and the U.S. we prosecute adults for preying on children. God would be arrested for impregnating a girl below the age of consent."

"People didn't live as long then," James said.

Helena would not back down. "But human biology hasn't changed. My point is she was too young to consent. The brain of a young teenager isn't fully developed."

"The mysteries of the faith require us to have faith."

"Don't hide behind that nonsense. What kind of message is the Church sending to women? Only virgin children are pure? Experienced mothers are impure and unfit to raise Christ? It's creepy and insulting when you think about it, but you would have me suspend rational judgment and just accept something I would tear your eyes out for thinking about my underage sister? ~ Janet M. Tavakoli

I had no idea what time I'd left, how I'd gotten home, who'd been up here, and how long he, she, or they had stayed. Another night, added to the hundreds that had gone before, shrouded in mystery. Really, when you thought about it, it was creepy. My own life was a secret to me. ~ Heather King

What is art, if not an excuse to be adventurous? ~ Nenia Campbell

Stories are told at festive, joyful gatherings, but the ones narrated at funerals are special because they reaffirm existence, of the listeners and the narrators. They are times of remembrance that haul the past into the present, and keep people alive even when they're gone. ~ Janice Pariat

And feast on the dead, I thought with a shudder. As if he could read my thoughts, he pressed a hand to my shoulder. His fingers were long and white, splaying over my arm like a waxen spider. If the gesture was meant to comfort me, it failed. ~ Leigh Bardugo

For some reason the past - any of our pasts - was solidly off-limits. They were like the creepy rabbits in Watership Down who won't answer any questions beginning with "Where. ~ Tana French

Almost all of the stories in The Matchmaker, the Apprentice, and the Football Fan are told in the first person, yet, depending on the angle and distance of the narrator, they exert different effects. The best are those in which the speaker never poses as an objective outsider. ( ... ) Other stories are damaged by the urge to distance the narrator. ~ Yiyun Li

So full. Full of lobster meat and the sadness of the lobster meat. Full of the feeling of having cracked hundreds upon hundreds of precious shells. Full of the sound and the sight of destruction, the lobsters dead in a pile, some of them with lipstick marks on their empty husks. Their voices piled up on one another. I felt a whispering coming from deep within my belly, the voices not yet at rest, and they said in a tone sympathetic and unsympathetic at the same time, Next Next Next. 'Well,' I said, 'what do we do next?' 'Lobster dinner?' he asked, chuckling a little as if I ought to be chuckling with him as well. ~ Alexandra Kleeman

Sometimes women's attraction to true crime is dismissed as trashy and voyeuristic (because women are vapid!). Sometimes it is unquestioningly celebrated as feminist (because if women like something, then it must be feminist!). And some argue that women read about serial killers to avoid becoming victims. This is the most flattering theory - and also, it seemed to me, the most incomplete. By presuming that women's dark thoughts were merely pragmatic, those thoughts are drained of their menace. True crime wasn't something we women at CrimeCon were consuming begrudgingly, for our own good. We found pleasure in these bleak accounts of kidnappings and assaults and torture chambers, and you could tell by how often we fell back on the language of appetite, of bingeing, of obsession. A different, more alarming hypothesis was the one I tended to prefer: perhaps we liked creepy stories because something creepy was in us. ~ Rachel Monroe

You sleep like an angel" Jacks said. The shock of his words in the dark room sent Maddy's stomach leaping into her throat. She didn't even realize she had screamed until it came out of her mouth. "Don't be frightened," Jacks said, sounding worried. "It's just me. I'm sorry, I so didn't mean for that to sound creepy. Let me start over. ~ Scott Speer

I'm the creepy girl. In a mental hospital."
He grinned. "Nobody's perfect. ~ Michelle Hodkin