William Goldman Quotes

Do not seek death, seek destruction.

I remember when I was in Los Angeles, and there was one of the very big earthquakes, and it was just absolute pandemonium. I mean the streets were just - people were crashing into each other, people were looting, in just a very short amount of time.

People like death and mayhem.

I’m a goddess of destruction. Tell me honestly that you find nothing exciting about the idea of a billion people screaming out for mercy when there’s no one left who cares what befalls them. Of the entire earth being rained on by all manner of demons bent on ultimate torture and sacrifice. Them ripping and shredding human flesh as they claw in a drunken frenzy fueled by their hatred of everything. Drinking blood in an orgy of terror...ahhh, the beauty of annihilation. There’s nothing like it.(Apollymi)

Sure, it was nice now, but eventually there would be running and screaming and blood on the floor.

Over the field rang his clear voice calling: ‘Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world’s ending!

Cry "havoc!" and let loose the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.

So we get a plan," I said. "Any suggestions?" "Blow up the building," Kincaid said without looking up. "That works good for vampires. Then soak what's left in gasoline. Set it on fire. Then blow it all up again." "For future reference, I was sort of hoping for a suggestion that didn't sound like it came from that Bolshevik Muppet with all the dynamite.

ahhh the beauty of annihilation. There's nothing like it.

Nations with nations mix'd confus'dly die, and lost in one promiscuous carnage lie.

A thing of orchestrated hell-a terrible symphony of light and flame.

About, about, in reel and rout the death fires danced at night.

Human beings can't see anything without wanting to destroy it. That's original sin. And I'm going to destroy it. Death is going to die.

I was lucky enough to see with my own eyes the recent stock-market crash, where they lost several million dollars, a rabble of dead money that went sliding off into the sea. Never as then, amid suicides, hysteria, and groups of fainting people, have I felt the sensation of real death, death without hope, death that is nothing but rottenness, for the spectacle was terrifying but devoid of greatness... I felt something like a divine urge to bombard that whole canyon of shadow, where ambulances collected suicides whose hands were full of rings.

Burn, burn tree and fern! Shrivel and scorch! A fizzling torch To light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Bake and toast ‘em, fry and roast ‘em! till beards blaze, and eyes glaze; till hair smells and skins crack, fat melts, and bones black in cinders lie beneath the sky! So dwarves shall die, and light the night for our delight, Ya hey! Ya-harri-hey! Ya hoy!

She touches me The jungle lights up with incinerating fire Looks like a flaming serpent I look into her eyes I see a movie flickering Car crashes People kicking corpses Men ripping their tracheas out and shaking them at the sky I think to myself: I don’t want to survive this one I want to burn up in the wreckage Cooking flesh in the jungle

The Arab is trying to be pleased with death and murder and mayhem and disease and poverty and political unrest.

There is chaos. There's bloodshed. There's carnage.

That night it felt that somehow by flicking them off the roof, the matches would burn down everything, the sparks from the tips of the flames, torching the world and all the heartbroken people in it.

O war! thou son of Hell!

The present war is the saturation point in violence. It spells, to my mind, also its doom.

Fire is fed by fire. The same small flame destroys Two stalks of wheat at once.

It takes only one child to raze a village.

With that, the poignant charm vanished. Inside the fifth machine, all was rampant malignity. Deformed flowers thrust monstrous horned tusks and trumpets ending in blaring teeth through the crimson walls, rending them; the ravenous garden slavered over its prey and every brick was shown in the act of falling. Amid the violence of this transformation, the oblivion of the embrace went on. The awakened girl, in all her youthful loveliness, still clasped in the arms of a lover from whom all the flesh had fallen. He was a grinning skeleton.

Bangs and smoke were more often the marks of ineptitude than expertise.