Sick And Twisted Quotes

When a Narcissist is victimizing a person, the abused becomes someone they are not and behave in ways out of the norm. Where some may view the behavior as childish or immature, it is actually a person fighting to hang onto his or her sanity. He or she feels as if they are going crazy and those on the outside view them as such. This is what it is to love a Narcissist. The story can and will be melodramatic and confusing at times, but this is real life, and is what goes on in the mind of a person being victimized by a sick and twisted individual hell bent on destroying love. ~ Steven Craig

You're a man, darling. There's something sick and twisted inside you, making you relish girly torture. I don't understand it myself. Never did. ~ Linda Kage

Still, it was a starting point for someone with my special skills - the professional ones - and I pondered it as I worked. It was, after all, an area of real personal interest to me. And additionally, if this had been Deborah's case, she would almost certainly have demanded some kind of special insight from Sick and Twisted Me. So I thought about it, and although I came up with nothing helpful, at least it passed the time. ~ Jeff Lindsay

The talked about their messed-up, dysfunctional families, carefully respecting boundaries, never probing too deep in any one sitting. And they always ended up laughing. Even when the subject matter was intense or macabre, Henry's sick and twisted and often politically incorrect sense of humor was infectious ... Gloria laughed more in these first weeks at Oxford then she remembered laughing almost anywhere. ~ Andrea Kayne Kaufman

I would have, Damien! I would have! I would have rather died a thousand painful, torturous deaths than watch you die one! I would have given up anything to go back to that day and relive it!" Damien takes a step back as I run shaky fingers through my hair. I lower my voice and cry, "When you died, I thought I lost everything. I was empty. Numb inside. And the pain...the pain of feeling my heart break over and over again was never ending. I'm sorry about what happened. I think you know that. But what I think you know more than anything is you haunting me and reminding me of what you sacrificed is the most mean-spirited thing you've ever done." More tears well in my eyes, and I suck them back trying to be strong. "The Damien, I knew wouldn't want this for me. He wouldn't want me to live the rest of my life, loving his ghost.
My Damien was too proud, good, and selfless for that." The one thing that I forgot was that in this dream, this is not my Damien. He's a sinister, sick, and twisted version of the boy I loved. And I know this when he lunges at me, wraps both of his hands around my neck, cuts off the air in my throat, and whispers in a deadly voice, "Love me."
"No!" I bolt upright in my bed choking on air. "No!" I try to steady my breathing, but I'm too shaken up to concentrate ~ Lauren Hammond

I was a lonely, frightened little fat kid who felt there was something deeply wrong with me because I didn't feel like I was the gender I'd been assigned. I felt there was something wrong with me, something sick and twisted inside me, something very very bad about me. And everything I read backed that up. ~ Kate Bornstein

And," I continued, "I'm probably going to be a bitch most of the time. I guarantee I'll find a reason to yell at you almost every day, and don't be surprised if a few drinks get dumped on you from time to time. That's just me, and you're going to have to deal with it. Because I'm not changing for you or anyone else. And I-"
Wesley slid off his bar stool and pressed his lips against mine before the words could get out. My heart pounded as every thought vacated my mind. One of his arms encircled my waist, pulling me as close to him as possible, and his free hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. He kissed me so passionately I thought we would catch on fire.
It wasn't until after he pulled away, both of us in need of some air, that I could think straight again.
"You jerk!" I yelled, pushing him away from me. "Kissing me to make me shut up? God, you're so obnoxious. I could just throw something at you right now."
Wesley hopped onto his bar stool with a big grin, and I suddenly remembered him telling me that I was sexy when I was mad at him. Go figure. "Excuse me, Joe," he called to the bartender. "I think Bianca wants a Cherry Coke."
Despite my best efforts, I smiled. He wasn't perfect, or even remotely close, for that matter, but, hey, neither was I. We were both pretty fucked up. Somehow, though, that made everything more exciting. Yeah, it was sick and twisted, but that's reality, right? Escape is impossible, so why not embrace it?
W ~ Kody Keplinger

You think your show of defiance will save you from my dominance? From my wrath? Trust me, you haven't seen my worst. There are ways of torturing a vampire that can drive them literately insane. I know ways of making you suffer that will last for months or years - not seconds. I want you to test me so that I can teach you who your master is. Now get the fuck up and follow me. If I have to tell you again, I'm going to cut off your hand and send it to the werewolves."

Theoden to Noel ~ Nicholas Bella

You're about to become the thing you hate. Let the games begin. ~ Nicholas Bella

BDSM isn't about play, not for pleasure purists.
It's our own fucked up version of therapy. If we weren't fucked up, sick and twisted this shit wouldn't get us off. ~ Erica Chilson

But he'd do it - and not just to get a cure. He would never stop, especially now. Not after what they'd done to him and his friends. If the only way to get back at them was to pass all their tests and trials, to survive, then so be it. So be it. With thoughts of revenge actually comforting him in a sick and twisted way, he finally fell asleep. ~ James Dashner

They trampled the world with their sick and twisted and crooked kind of love. The bastard didn't think that anyone else's love mattered at all. As if a father's love knew everything, could see everything, could cure everything. And what would have happened if that man, Robert Lawson, had been allowed to keep his son? What would have fucking happened then? Men like him and Mando, they didn't understand anything but their own imperfect hearts. That was their sickness - that they believed themselves to be the center of all light. That kind of light was a darkness of the land. A plague that was killing them all. ~ Benjamin Alire Saenz

I dedicate this book to anyone who knows they are still a good person even when they get off on sex, erotic stories, and scary tales. This book is kind of sick and twisted. I'm warning you ahead of time. ~ Chris Genovese

Despite my best efforts, I smiled. He wasn't perfect, or even remotely close, for that matter, but, hey, neither was I. We were both pretty fucked up. Somehow, thought, that made everything more exciting. Yeah, it was sick and twisted, but that's reality, right? Escape is impossible, so why not embrace it? ~ Kody Keplinger

And what kind of sick and twisted impulse would cause a professional sportswriter to deliver a sermon from the Book of Revelations off his hotel balcony on the dawn of Super Sunday? I had not planned a sermon for that morning. I had not even planned to be in Houston, for that matter ... . But now, looking back on that outburst, I see a certain inevitability about it. Probably it was a crazed and futile effort to somehow explain the extremely twisted nature of my relationship with God, Nixon and the National Football League: The three had long since become inseparable in my mind, a sort of unholy trinity that had caused me more trouble and personal anguish in the past few months than Ron Ziegler, Hubert Humphrey and Peter Sheridan all together had caused me in a year on the campaign trail. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Angel, I have no idea how you can stand this stench," he said. "Derrel's been doing this for long enough that I think he doesn't have any smell receptors left, but you ... ?" He grimaced as he snapped pictures of the skull and the injury while I held the body in position for him. "You are one tough chick." Then his eyes crinkled, and even though he had the mask on, I could tell he was grinning at me. "Or maybe you're seriously sick and twisted, in which case you are so in the right line of work."
I laughed. "Gotta be the second one," I said. "I'm not tough! ~ Diana Rowland

I mean, why would someone do this?! Why do people fall in love if it means there is a chance of feeling this way? What the fuck is wrong with humans?! HUMANS ARE FUCKING SICK AND TWISTED! I mean, I get it - it feels good, you know? Being in love, being happy." Her body trembled as the tears fell faster than she could take breaths. "But when that magical rug is ripped out from under you, it takes all the happy and good feelings with it. And your heart? It just breaks. It breaks and it's unapologetic. It shatters into a million pieces, leaving you numb, blankly staring at the pieces because all your free will, all the common sense you once had in your life is gone. You gave up everything for this bullshit thing called love, and now you're just destroyed. ~ Brittainy C. Cherry

Pretty enough to make Henley the Huntsman want to save me ... but not too pretty, because too pretty is what sets my stepmother off. And she wants me gone - she wanted me gone years ago."
Viv twisted restlessly. "I don't know what she's waiting for. Waiting to make him hate me, I guess. Make him loyal to her so he'll cut my heart out when she asks him to ... And then if Henley doesn't kill me, there's the matter of being pretty enough to attract some necrophiliac playboy. Someday my prince will come - and be enamored of my lifeless body. There's some happily-ever-after for you. ~ Sarah Cross

The white people of the South are the greatest minority in this nation. They deserve consideration and understanding instead of the persecution of twisted propaganda. ~ Strom Thurmond

Facing Erienne, Christopher favored her with a lopsided grin. "I suppose this means I won't be welcomed here again?"
"Get out! And don't ever darken this door again!" she cried, fighting tears of anger and humiliation. Her lips curling with contempt, she gave him a scathing perusal. "Were a twisted, scar-faced, hunchbacked cripple the only other man on earth, I would surely choose him over you!"
Christopher let his gaze glide down her. "As for me, Erienne, were you cast down before me, I would not be wont to cross over you to get to some broad bovine." He smiled in wry humor as his eyes met hers again. " 'Twould be pure foolishness to spite myself for the sake of pride."
"Out!" The word was spat from her lips with vengeance as her arm thrust out in the direction of the door.

-Christopher & Erienne ~ Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

Believing himself to be unseen by other bathers, he gave himself up to being alone with his body. He wriggled his toes, breathed hard through his nose, twisted his brown moustache where some drops of water still clung, and looked himself critically all over. The scrutiny seemed to satisfy him, as well as it might. I, whose only acquaintance was with bodies and minds developing, was suddenly confronted by maturity in its most undeniable form; and I wondered, what must it feel like to be him, master of those limbs which have passed beyond the need of gym and playing field, and exist for their own beauty and strength? What can they do, I thought, to be conscious of themselves? ~ L.P. Hartley

And during the campaign of 1936, she writes that she and her brother would always rather be out doing things when they're sick, rather than take to their beds. And I think Eleanor Roosevelt always responded to pain by doing more, by doing something, by being active. And I think she just couldn't bear to look at her childhood grief. And she didn't. ~ Blanche Wiesen Cook

A spring sun was shining on the rue St. Honore, as I ran down the church steps. On one corner stood a barrow full of yellow jonquils, pale violets from the Riviera, dark Russian violets, and white Roman hyacinths in a golden cloud of mimosa. The street was full of Sunday pleasure-seekers. I swung my cane and laughed with the rest. Someone overtook and passed me. He never turned, but there was the same deadly malignity in his white profile that there had been in his eyes. I watched him as long as I could see him. His lithe back expressed the same menace; every step that carried him away from me seemed to bear him on some errand connected with my destruction.

I was creeping along, my feet almost refusing to move. There began to dawn in me a sense of responsibility for something long forgotten. It began to seem as if I deserved that which he threatened: it reached a long way back - a long, long way back. It had lain dormant all these. years: it was there though, and presently it would rise and confront me. But I would try to escape; and I stumbled as best I could into the rue de Rivioli, across the Place de la Concorde and on to the Quai. I looked with sick eyes upon the sun, shining through the white foam of the fountain, pouring over the backs of the dusky bronze river-gods, on the far-away Arc, a structure of amethyst mist, on the countless vistas of grey stems and bare branches faintly green. Then I saw him again coming down one of the chestnut alleys of the Cours ~ Robert W. Chambers

She released her weapon with one hand, twisted around, and kissed him. It was the deepest she had ever kissed him. Blood filled his face, and he went limp at the touch of her lips. Namine took the moment of dropped defense to put Zarrys flat on his back with a long blade at his throat before he even knew what was happening. As he looked up the long shaft to her smiling face, he gave an embarrassed chuckle. Fallon and Kirah were laughing behind her.
"Me," Namine said proudly. Then she withdrew the weapon and helped Zarrys back to his feet.
Cheeks burning, Zarrys returned his sword to its sheath. "That's cheating. ~ S.R. Ford

We can make war so terrible and make them so sick of war that generations pass away before they again appeal to it. ~ William Tecumseh Sherman

Maybe I can do some writing then. The phrase made him sick. It had no meaning anymore. Like a word that is repeated until it becomes gibberish that sentence, for him, had been used to extinction. It sounded silly; like some bit of cliché from a soap opera. Hero saying in dramatic tones – Now, by God, maybe I can do some writing. Senseless. For a moment, though, he wondered if it was true. Now that she was leaving could he forget about her and really get some work done? Quit his job? Go somewhere and hold up in a cheap furnished room and write? You have $123.89 in the bank, his mind informed him. He pretended it was the only thing that kept him from it. But, far back in his mind, he wondered if he could write anything. Often the question threw itself at him when he was least expecting it. You have four hours every morning, the statement would rise like a menacing wraith. You have time to write many thousands of words. Why don't you? And the answer was always lost in a tangle of becauses and wells and endless reasons that he clung to like a drowning man at straws.("Mad House") ~ Richard Matheson

It comes and goes. People think if you're sick you become fearless and brave, but you don't. Most of the time it's like being stalked by a psycho, like I might get shot any second. But sometimes I forget for hours.'
'What makes you forget?'
'People. Doing stuff. When I was with you in the wood, I forgot for a whole afternoon. ~ Jenny Downham

The American public is sick and tired of being lied to. ~ Patrick Leahy

Lowering my chin, I sighed. What my Seth wanted, I wanted, but ... daimons? I rubbed my hands on my bent knees and sighed again - louder, like a petulant child.
Aiden's back twisted as he turned his head. "What, Alex?"
"Nothing," I mumbled.
"There's something." He leaned back, tipping his head against the bar. "You have that tone."
I frowned at the wall. "What tone?"
"The 'I have something I want to say but I shouldn't' tone" A little bit of humor seeped into his voice. "I'm well familiar with it."
Well ... damn. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

I learnt that music cost something, and that's a good thing. Also, that I should exercise, because I didn't and I got very sick. ~ Brooke Fraser

And I'm here to tell you, the reaction that I'm getting around the country, people are sick and tired of this word in Washington, compromise. This is why nothing ever gets done. ~ Herman Cain

I saw a sick man pick up his instrument and be well ~ Nick Cave

I was a time bomb waiting to detonate, burned out, sick of the music business, out of touch with everything and heavily abusing various substances, disillusioned with life, and intensely needed to work on my character. The only way I could see to do that was to withdraw completely from public life as I had known it before. ~ Charles Lloyd

When it comes to specifying the values particular to paganism, people have generally listed features such as these: an eminently aristocratic conception of the human individual; an ethics founded on honor ("shame" rather than "sin"); an heroic attitude toward life's challenges; the exaltation and sacralization of the world, beauty, the body, strength, health; the rejection of any "worlds beyond"; the inseparability of morality and aesthetics; and so on. From this perspective, the highest value is undoubtedly not a form of "justice" whose purpose is essentially interpreted as flattening the social order in the name of equality, but everything that can allow a man to surpass himself. To paganism, it is pure absurdity to consider the results of the workings of life's basic framework as unjust. In the pagan ethic of honor, the classic antithesis noble vs. base, courageous vs. cowardly, honorable vs. dishonorable, beautiful vs. deformed, sick vs. healthy, and so forth, replace the antithesis operative in a morality based on the concept of sin: good vs. evil, humble vs. vainglorious, submissive vs. proud, weak vs. arrogant, modest vs. boastful, and so on. However, while all this appears to be accurate, the fundamental feature in my opinion is something else entirely. It lies in the denial of dualism. ~ Alain De Benoist

When you sit down and play your music for someone you respect, you get that feeling in your stomach of like: 'Oh my God ... ' You know if it's not great because you start to feel sick. ~ Raine Maida

I think I am just tired. I am tired of fighting and tired of losing and tired of deceiving and tired of trying to swim against the ride. i am tired of trying to please a master who cannot be pleased; a ravenous hungry Voice which cannot be sated. I am sick and tired of being sick of tired. ~ Nancy Tucker

Stepping toward her, he raised his left hand, mirroring her right, close but not quite touching. His palm was bigger, his fingers thicker and longer than hers. He asked wryly, "Am I exonerated?" She swallowed. "In this, yes." He cocked his head to one side, mouth twisted in an ironic grin. "Will you never forgive me the rest? ~ Julie Klassen

Wind surged across the frozen wastes. Our bodies moved restlessly, we could not feed them enough. Dusk upon us, we crept across the ghetto of boulders, our headlamps sometimes eerie, then like rockets in the fog. Total darkness ambushed us short of our destination. The hours wore on. The moraine wore us down. My eyes were riveted to the rising scythe of a moon. In that instant I figured out what was killing me. It wasn't the quick blow of an ax, but the slow torment of the rack: each day I was weaker, each hour a little more sick. With every night that passed I shuffled a bit nearer to death. I made life-and-death decisions like I was choosing between two brands ~ Mark Twight

Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. ~ Matthew Arnold

I'm sick of people saying I hate blacks, women, and gays. It's false and slanderous. Everyone who knows me knows I hate the Chinese. ~ Zach Braff

When a man is ill,he has only one wish -to gain health,and when he does -then come a hundred wishes and he turns even unhappier than when he was lying sick in bed ~ Alija Izetbegovic

You'll have the use of my body, Breck, until my mother is dead, but that's all you'll have of me. Not one word of tenderness, not one ounce of compassion or concern. If you're tired, if you're hurt, if you're sick, plan to go elsewhere for succor, because you won't find it with me! Those are my terms, Breck, and they're the only terms you'll get from me. ~ Anne N. Reisser

When we can't find my sister, we know / she is under the kitchen table, a book in her hand, / a glass of milk and a small bowl of peanuts beside her. / We know we can call Odella's name out loud, / slap the table hard with our hands, / dance around it singing 'She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain' / so many times the song makes us sick / and the circling makes us dizzy / and still / my sister will do nothing more / than slowly turn the page. ~ Jacqueline Woodson

The uncompromising example of Jesus Christ places upon every Christian minister the responsibility to withstand the temptation to align oneself with the secular ruling powers. It is true that it is part of every minister's calling to be a pastor to his or her parishioners, to be a spiritual leader and teacher and a comforter of the sick at heart and those afflicted in mind, soul, spirit, or body. Ministers of the Gospel must comfort the afflicted, but they also have the prophet's duty to afflict the comfortable. ~ Obery M. Hendricks Jr.

Were it up to me, I would be with Lilly. Were it up to me I would be asleep in her arms. She's dead, in a cooler in some fucking morgue, and i'll never sleep in her arms again. The thought of it makes me sick, and it makes me want to join her. The rose will help me. It is time to start the killing. Time to fucking start. (James Frey, pg.39) ~ James Frey

I miss you terribly. You see, you always talk about getting cure of our romance, and I did my best to help! But now you have me definitely and hopelessly 'contaminated' to the extent that I am sick at heart. Strangeley, I do not want to be cured! I love you completely. ~ Leslie Maitland

I think there were moments on Snow White where I wished there was a little bit more of a sick humor toward Ravenna. But maybe the tone of the movie couldn't really support that. So you always have to kind of figure out where you are and adapt to it. ~ Kristen Stewart

Ravens and crows. Rats Mists and clouds. Insects and corruption. Strange events and odd occurrences. The ordinary twisted and strange. Wonders!

The dead are beginning to walk and some see them. Others do not, but more and more, we all fear the night.

These have been our days. They rain upon us beneath a dead sky, crushing us with their fury, until as one we beg: "Let it begin!"

-Journal of the Unknown Scholar, entry for The Feast of Freia, 1000 NE ~ Brandon Sanderson

In the wars it had been different. Men dropped from the columns all the time on the long marches, in the cold months. First they fell to the back, then they fell behind, then they fell over. The cold, the sick, the wounded. Logen shivered and hunched his shoulders. At first he'd tried to help them. Then he became grateful he wasn't one of them. Then he stepped over the corpses and hardly noticed them. You learn to tell when someone isn't getting up again. He looked at Malacus Quai. One more death in the wild was nothing to remark upon. You have to be realistic, after all.

The apprentice started from his fitful sleep and tried to push himself up. His hands were shaking bad. He looked up at Logen, eyes glittering bright. "I can't get up," he croaked.

"I know. I'm surprised you made it this far." It didn't matter so much now. Logen knew the way. If he could find that track he might make twenty miles a day.

"If you leave me some of the food… perhaps… after you get to the library… someone…"

"No," said Logen, setting his jaw. "I need the food."

Quai made a strange sound, somewhere between a cough and a sob.

Logen leaned down and set his right shoulder in Quai's stomach, pushed his arm under his back. "I can't carry you forty miles without it. ~ Joe Abercrombie

Because I grew up around Danny and Phillip, I discovered the truth about the male language very early in life. What I learned is there are three basic responses that most guys will use when shouldered with the major task of having to answer the question, How do I look? by the fairer sex.
Although I have never confirmed it, I am convinced that boys are taken aside in school, probably in fifth grade when the girls watch the film about getting their periods, and are taught the following three responses:

You look like shit. (Translation: You look bad. Just go back to bed and start over tomorrow. I really shouldn't be seen with you like this.)

You look fine. (Translation: You look good enough to be seen with.)

You look hot. (Translation: I want you.)

They also must teach them there is only one acceptable variation to these responses and to use it sparingly. The variation is simple. They just throw a REALLY into the sentence. The following are examples I have witnessed:

JJ, you REALLY look like shit. (Translation: You must be very hung over, or sick, or having an extremely bad hair day. I really don't want to be seen with you.)

REALLY, JJ, your hair looks fine. (Translation: Your hair looks the same to me as it always does, even though you spent an hour fixing it, so stop messing with it and lets go because you look good enough to be seen with.) And…

(Insert cheerleader's name here) looks REALLY Hot. ~ Jillian Dodd

I miss the way he used to kiss my shoulder whenever it was bare and he was nearby. I miss how he cleared his throat before he took a sip of water and scratched his left arm with his right hand when he was nervous. I miss how he tucked my hair behind my ear when it came loose and took my temperature when I was sick or when he was bored. I miss his glasses on my nightstand. I miss watching him take Sunday afternoon naps on my couch, with the newspaper resting on his stomach like a blanket. How his hands stayed clasped, fingers intertwined, while he slept. I miss the cadence of his speech and the stupidity of his puns. I miss playing doctor when we made love, and even when we didn't. I miss his smell, like fresh laundry and honey (because of his shampoo) at his place. Fresh laundry and coconut (because of my shampoo) at mine. I miss that he used to force me to listen to French rap and would sing along in a horrible accent. I miss that he always said "I love you" when he hung up the phone with his sister, never shy or embarassed, regardless of who else was around. I miss that his ideal Friday night included a DVD, eating Chinese food right out of the carton, and cuddling on top of my duvet cover. I miss that he reread books from his childhood and then from mine. I miss that he was the only man that I have ever farted on, and with, freely. I miss that he understood that the holidays were hard for me and that he wanted me to never feel lonely. ~ Julie Buxbaum

Less money spent on billboards that just make us feel good about ourselves and more on soup kitchens and organized visits to the sick and dying. ~ Rebecca Goldstein