Demon Hunters Quotes

You want me to join your group of demon hunters," I can't believe I just said that out loud, "because of a can of pepper spray and a boat load of luck? You're insane. ~ Bill Blais

The waitress arrived with Leo's Coke and my water, asking for our orders– pulled pork poutine for me because, bad Jew, and a mushroom burger that I know Leo got so that I wouldn't want a bite. Fungus was a medical condition to clear up with ointment, not food. ~ Deborah Wilde

An icy slither ran up my core as I stared at my right hand, its tremors Richter scale violent. Was this my demon-killing ability? Destined to be some supernatural whore luring hell spawn into back alleys for deadly rub and tugs? ~ Deborah Wilde

I was torn apart. But you, my knight, you found all the pieces and put me back together. ~ Juliette Cross

Humans were made for love and beauty; their vulnerability was what made them feel on the deepest level and what could also crush their will to live. ~ Juliette Cross

I am a demon hunter. Clearly, I am not afraid of the dark. ~ Cassandra Clare

Sometimes it's better to hold onto what you have, rather than risk what might be. ~ H.M. Ward

I mean, you know, this idea that somebody we disagree with on economic or social policy or something we have to turn into some kind of ogre or demon, I think, is a mistake. I mean, it's like telling the American people or half the American people that don't agree with you they're all fools. That's just not true. ~ William J. Clinton

Instinct made him want to fold her into his arms and fix her hurt, but instead, he steeled himself to finish it.

"What? Why do you look so suprised? You are a sex demon. Did you think we could ride off into the sunset, set up a house and fuck up a bunch of kids? The only thing I've ever wanted from you is sex and blood. Fucking and feeding go together for me, and since I can't feed from you anymore...."

He gestured to the door.

"Get out, and don't ever come near me again."

~Con ~ Larissa Ione

The world may be divided into people that read, people that write, people that think, and fox-hunters. ~ William Shenstone

It doesn't matter if I get my memories back or not," Simon said. "It doesn't matter if another demon gives me amnesia tomorrow. I know you: You'll come find me again, you'll come rescue me no matter what happens. You'll come for me, and I'll discover you all over again. I love you. I love you without the memories. I love you right now."
Isabelle said in a calm voice: "I know."
Simon stared at her. "Was that ... ," he said slowly. "Was that a Star Wars reference? Because if it was, I would like to declare my love all over again."
"Go on, then," said Isabelle. "I mean it. Say it again. I've been waiting awhile."
"I love you," said Simon. ~ Cassandra Clare

The obvious question is, what are the "conditions to which presumably we are genetically adapted"? As it turns out, what Donaldson assumed in 1919 is still the conventional wisdom today: our genes were effectively shaped by the two and a half million years during which our ancestors lived as hunters and gatherers prior to the introduction of agriculture twelve thousand years ago. This is a period of time known as the Paleolithic era or, less technically, as the Stone Age, because it begins with the development of the first stone tools. It constitutes more than 99.5 percent of human history - more than a hundred thousand generations of humanity living as hunter-gatherers, compared with the six hundred succeeding generations of farmers or the ten generations that have lived in the industrial age.
It's not controversial to say that the agricultural period - the last .5 percent of the history of our species - has had little significant effect on our genetic makeup. What is significant is what we ate during the two and a half million years that preceded agriculture - the Paleolithic era. The question can never be answered definitively, because this era, after all, preceded human record-keeping. The best we can do is what nutritional anthropologists began doing in the mid-1980s - use modern-day hunter-gatherer societies as surrogates for our Stone Age ancestors. ~ Gary Taubes

Depression is a real demon in the woods for a lot of creative people, you know? It's part of what the documentary is trying to be about for me, finding balance, where the beauty that is attainable in the creative arts can be matched with the scratchy roughness of regular life. ~ Ethan Hawke

In every human society of which we know - prehistoric, ancient or modern, whether hunter-gatherer, pastoral, agricultural or industrial - at least some form of art is displayed, and not only displayed, but highly regarded and willingly engaged in. ~ Ellen Dissanayake

It made sense that Tina was in Eleanor's gym class
because gym was an extension of hell, and Tina was definetly a demon. ~ Rainbow Rowell

Demon or bird! (said the boy's soul,)
Is it indeed toward your mate you sing? or is it mostly to me?
For I, that was a child, my tongue's use sleeping,
Now I have heard you,
Now in a moment I know what I am for - I awake, 150
And already a thousand singers - a thousand songs, clearer, louder and more sorrowful than yours,
A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me,
Never to die.

O you singer, solitary, singing by yourself - projecting me;
O solitary me, listening - nevermore shall I cease perpetuating you; 155
Never more shall I escape, never more the reverberations,
Never more the cries of unsatisfied love be absent from me,
Never again leave me to be the peaceful child I was before what there, in the night,
By the sea, under the yellow and sagging moon,
The messenger there arous'd - the fire, the sweet hell within, 160
The unknown want, the destiny of me. ~ Walt Whitman

This is a love story," Michael Dean says, "but really what isn't? Doesn't the detective love the mystery or the chase, or the nosey female reporter who is even now being held against her wishes at an empty warehouse on the waterfront? Surely, the serial murder loves his victims, and the spy loves his gadgets, or his country or the exotic counterspy. The ice-trucker is torn between his love for ice and truck and the competing chefs go crazy for scallops, and the pawnshop guys adore their junk. Just as the housewives live for catching glimpses of their own botoxed brows in gilded hall mirrors and the rocked out dude on 'roids totally wants to shred the ass of the tramp-tatted girl on hookbook. Because this is reality, they are all in love, madly, truly, with the body-mic clipped to their back-buckle and the producer casually suggesting, "Just one more angle.", "One more jello shot.".

And the robot loves his master. Alien loves his saucer. Superman loves Lois. Lex and Lana. Luke loves Leia, til he finds out she's his sister. And the exorcist loves the demon, even as he leaps out the window with it, in full soulful embrace. As Leo loves Kate, and they both love the sinking ship. And the shark, god the shark, loves to eat. Which is what the Mafioso loves too, eating and money and Pauly and Omertà. The way the cowboy loves his horse, loves the corseted girl behind the piano bar and sometimes loves the other cowboy. As the vampire loves night and neck. And the zombie, do ~ Jess Walter

It's not that I don't want to, Keel. Because I do. I really do. It's just, I can't do it like this. You have too much already going on. You just told me you can't choose between Nick and the Demon. I don't want to be another option for you to choose from. And I can't just be a distraction. I could say screw it and enjoy this moment, but we would both regret it. Nick's my friend, and the way I want to be with you, it's sort of in a long term way. I'm smart enough to know that if I kissed you now, it would end up being a bitter memory for both of us. I can't share you. And I can't lose you. ~ Cheryl McIntyre

But I don't understand God. I don't understand how he could see the way people treat one another, and not chalk up the whole human race as a bad idea. ~ Jim Butcher

You listen to me, and listen good!" she shouted, shocking me. "I am not evil because I have a thousand years of demon smut on my soul!" she exclaimed, the tips of her hair trembling and her face flushed. "Every time you disturb reality, nature has to balance it out. The black on your soul isn't evil, it's a promise to make up for what you have done. It's a mark, not a death sentence. And you can get rid of it given time."
"Ceri, I'm sorry," I fumbled, but she wasn't listening.
"You're an ignorant, foolish, stupid witch," she berated, and I cringed, my grip tightening on the copper spell pot and feeling the anger from her like a whip. "Are you saying because I carry the stink of demon magic, that I'm a bad person?"

"No..." I wedged in.

"That God will show no pity?" she said, green eyes flashing. "That because I made one mistake in fear that led to a thousand more that I will burn in hell?"

"No. Ceri -" I took a step forward.

"My soul is black," she said, her fear showing in her suddenly pale cheeks. "I'll never be rid of it all before I die, but it won't be because I'm a bad person but because I was a frightened one. ~ Kim Harrison

What is the world coming to, when you can't even trust a rogue vicar and her demon lover? ~ Simon R. Green

For ever the world of Fairy drifts further from the world in which the Christ holds sway. I have no quarrel with the Christ, only with his priests, who call the Great Goddess a demon and deny that she ever held power in this world. ~ Marion Zimmer Bradley

I swallowed hard. Fortunately, she had no way of knowing the demon was inches from her, steaming a carafe of milk into a perfect froth. ~ Anne Greenwood Brown

What about the Vimes manual, then?" snapped Vimes. "I notice you've never bothered to learn how to use me!" The demon hesitated.
"Humans come with a manual?" it said.
"It'd be a damn good idea!" said Vimes.
"True," murmured Angua.
"It could say things like 'Chapter One: Bingeley bingeley beep and other damn fool things to spring on people at six in the morning," said Vimes, his eyes wild. "And 'Troubleshooting: my owner keeps trying to drop me in the privy, what am I doing wrong? ~ Terry Pratchett

I'm a demon sent by God in his scorn for man's sins to entice thee with" - I cringed - a voodoo vagina ~ Pam Godwin

The demon trapped in the summoning circle screamed, slamming its crablike pincers against the unseen barrier, hurling its chitinous shoulders from side to side in an effort to escape the confinement. It couldn't. I kept my will on the circle, kept the demon from bursting free.
"Satisfied, Chauncy?" I asked it.
The demon straightened its hideous form and said, in a perfect Oxford accent, "Quite. You understand, I must observe the formalities. ~ Jim Butcher

I figure the folks that are the most interesting get to go to heaven. I mean, if I was God, that's who I'd want there with me ... I'd rather be a superhero in hell than an angel in heaven. What the feck would I do all day if I wasn't kicking demon ass? ~ Karen Marie Moning

Demons were said to be cruel, but a demon would never have been so brutal as this. A demon merely called you by name, threw his arms around you, whispered his plight, understood yours, then took you for his own. ~ Alice Hoffman

TODD:
The history of the world, my love
LOVETT:
Save a lot of graves,
Do a lot of relatives favors!
TODD:
Is those below serving those up above!
LOVETT:
Ev'rybody shaves,
So there should be plenty of flavors!
TODD:
How gratifying for once to know
BOTH:
That those above will serve those down below! ~ Stephen Sondheim

We have a Daimon walk into the bar in broad daylight, and now a demon sliming Dev. I don´t know about you, but that doesn´t seem coincidental to me."
"I agree. Snot funny. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Cookie?" he offered, holding up a cookie full of chocolate chips.
Upset tummy or not, there was no way I could refuse that. "Sure."
His lips tipped to one side and he leaned towards me, his mouth inches from mine. "Come and get it."
Come and get…? Daemon placed half the cookie between those full, totally kissable lips.
Oh, holy alien babies everywhere…
My mouth dropped open. Several of the girls at the table made sounds that had me wondering if they were turning into puddles under the table, but I couldn't bring myself to check out what they were doing.
That cookie – those lips – were right there.
Heat swept over my cheeks. I could feel the eyes of everyone else and Demon… dear God, Daemon arched his brows, daring me.
Dee gagged. "I think I'm going to hurl."
Mortified, I wanted to crawl into a hole. What did he think I was going to do? Take that cookie out of his mouth like something straight out of an R-rated version of Lady and the Tramp? Heck, I kind of wanted to, and I wasn't too sure what that said about me.
Daemon reached up and took the cookie. There was a gleam in his eyes, as if he'd just won some battle. "Time's up, Kitten. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

Evil" read backwards is "live." Demon est deus inversus. ~ Alan W. Watts

a she-demon with a tunnel to Hades between her ever-scissoring legs? You had better staff a priest, my friend. A satanic priest." Lucian fell to the floor now, kicking and holding his stomach. "Stop!" he begged, sobbing. "Stop, no more. ~ Lucian Bane

Rejoice, child, the Demon Lord will return for you. He will survive for you; win for you. You are what binds him to life, for he has something the Black Lord does not, the most powerful force of all. Love. ~ T.C. Southwell

Cancer is a kind of possession, too. And like a demon, before it claims you, it nibbles away at who you are, erases the face you have always presented to the world to show the unwanted thing inside. ~ Andrew Pyper

How many times had I been caught in such a dilemma? Do I destroy the Trojans or the Greeks? Do I flirt with my sister's Hunters and risk getting slapped, or do I flirt with Britomartis and risk getting blow up? These are the kind of choices that define us. ~ Rick Riordan

Only inexperienced demon looks horrific to mankind. ~ Toba Beta

The voices of all the lost, all the Indians, metis, hunters, Mounted Police, wolfers, cowboys, all the bundled bodies that the spring uncovered and the warming sun released into the stink of final decay; all the starving, freezing, gaunt, and haunted men who had challenged this country and failed; all the ghosts from smallpox-stilled Indian camps, the wandering spirits of warriors killed in their sleep on the borders of the deadly hills, all the skeleton women and children of the starving winters, all the cackling, maddened cannibals, every terrified, lonely, crazed, and pitiful outcry that these plains had ever wrung from human lips, went wailing and moaning over him, mingled with the living shouts of the foreman and the old-timer, and he said, perhaps aloud, remembering the legend of the Crying River, and the voices that rode the wind there as here, Qu'appelle? Qu'appelle? ~ Wallace Stegner