Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Leviathan. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Leviathan Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Percy Bysshe Shelley,Rainbow Rowell,A.s. Byatt,S.m. Reine,Sarah J. Maas for you to enjoy and share.
A pard-like spirit, beautiful and swift.
Levi was a black-and-white photograph in the dark. All pale skin, gray eyes, streaky hair ...
A metamorphosis ... The shining butterfly of the soul from the pupa of the body. Larva, pupa, imago. An image of art.
Metaraon, with his unmerciful stare,
There was a thing waiting in the darkness.
It was ancient, and cruel, and paced in the shadows ...
Haesten.
If this world ever contained one worthless, treacherous slime-coated piece of human dung then it was Haesten.
You are, and always have been, the one person in my life who has the ability to destroy me. For years, I clung to you, knowing that, as long as I kept you close, I didn't have to be scared of anything else. You, Quarry Page, are the embodiment of my greatest fear.
I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, down throw and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.
I'm dying to know all about this mystical creature that got you to act human for once.
THE GRACKLE
The
When man deploys the arbitrary nature of his madness, he confronts the dark necessity of the world; the animal that haunts his nightmares and his nights of privation is his own nature, which will lay bare hell's pitiless truth.
Who are the real monsters?
Once the frontiers of horror have been crossed, one will pass from form to form beyond the human and from metamorphosis to metamorphosis to accomplish, in the anguish of an impossible return, the most terrible journey to the depths of darkness.
The book worm, the foreign-looking one with the dark, close set eyes an the Roman nose, who had never been sought after or cherished; who had always been left alone, to read.
I fear, in my dark hours, that it hungers for me and that it is only a matter of time before it eats its full of my sanity.
I am an extraordinary being, you think. I am a mysterious creature
Oh, the symphonic shriek of a thousand hiding voices, the cry of the need inside, the entity, the silent watcher, the cold quiet thing, the one that laughs, the moondancer. The me that was not me, the thing that mocked and laughed and calling with its hunger.
I have lived in the monster and I know its insides; and my sling is the sling of David .
One trembles to think of that mysterious thing in the soul, which seems to acknowledge no human jurisdiction, but in spite of the individual's own innocence self, will still dream horrid dreams, and mutter unmentionable thoughts.
Robin Einstein Sacrificial Lamb Varghese.
There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs.
The human creature is so astonishing, but count on it before anything else to be just that-a creature. A laughing animal, a dangerous one, a clever one, a scared one, but always acting for a reason-a motive that will move the beast towards its desires.
I am the keeper of the beast, though all men harbor a beast in the depths of their heart
callous, calamitous creatures, driven by deviant demands and derisive diligence.
From the short story What Rough Beast
E was the only one in the world who understood the secret living thing that dwelt in he pit of my stomach ... the thing that reared its head from time to time to sear my insides with fear.
To my utter astonishment I saw an airship descending over my cow lot. It was occupied by six of the strangest beings I ever saw. They were jabbering together, but we could not understand a word they said ...
The creature all men on Arrakis fear, you treat it like a riding animal.
The television, that insidious beast, that Medusa which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little.
fishhook. It's squiggly like a worm. Something's
Nature, the vicar of the Almighty Lord.
Oall the creatures that creep and breathe on earth, there is none more wretched than man.
The Nephilim - the bogeyman for monsters, and all those who could be monsters.
I'm a monster, I'm a maven,
I know this world is changin'.
Never gave in, never gave up,
I'm the only thing I'm afraid of.
I am nothing but a miserable, crushed worm, whom no one wants, whom no one loves, a useless creature with morning sickness, and abig belly, two rotten teeth, and a bad temper, a battered sense of dignity, and a love which nobody wants and which nearly drives me insane.
Which monster do you choose?
The screaming of the beasts becomes louder. One can no longer distinguish whence in this now quiet silvery landscape it comes; ghostly, invisible, it is everywhere, between heaven and earth it rolls on immeasurably.
Incomprehensible spirit , sometimes light , sometimes sea.
Brutal abnormalities - Hellish, grotesque monstrosities Who made us fall, one and all. They beat us black and blue - And too Their Fathers showed us things, Inhuman things - Forbidden things!
Levi is made from the beautiful pool of people, but its his good-guy-ness that makes him the most gorgeous man alive.
I'm a chamaleon, ever-changing, always evolving, and eager for the next phase of metamorphosis. This is me, imperfections, inconsistencies, passion, and desires. I make myself happen, because if I didn't you can be damned sure nobody else would.
A giant caterpillar, its segmented body made of severed human heads, their faces screaming, their tongues functioning as legs, rippled up a wall and began tearing out chunks of concrete where a ledge had been worn, destroying another shrine.
There is a monster inside me. And she's beautiful.
The Weaver is a really godlike power. It's not even a blind idiot god, a sort of Lovecraft thing, it's just a purely capricious god. It's an intelligence you can't understand, so you can't trust it."
What deity in the realms of dementia, what rabid god decocted out of the smoking lobes of hydrophobia could have devised a keeping place for souls so poor as is this flesh. This mawky worm-bent tabernacle.
What's this?" Amarantha said, her voice lilting despite the adder's smile she gave me ...
"Just a human thing I found downstairs," the Attor hissed, and a forked tongue darted out between his razor-sharp teeth.
The hideous god of war.
Jacob." A whisper of the past.
Turd-eating son of a flying tortoise
Lucifer, here brought so low that he resembles a giant centipede with countless arms and legs, chained on a fiery grill, exhaling and inhaling sinners.
Tell us, pray, what devil This melancholy is, which can transform Men into monsters.
One whom the infernal gods of Hannibal will cause to be reborn, terror of mankind; never more horror nor worse days in the past than will come to the Romans through Babel.
What Great Beast will have their solitude pierced by your grasping little voices?
Maker - their word for worm,
This creature is the Pooka. Pay no mind to the shape he wears, for he's none of his own, and no soul either. Ware him ever, trust him never, but when the wind's right he has his uses. Never forget that you will never know him. The Pooka's mystery even to the Pooka.
I skim through time and space at the speed of thought. The unknown is my prey, I bring it to earth in a single exquisite bound.
He's like a storybook spirit, a little djinn or something, except instead of air or water his element is imagination.
The loathing of mankind is a force that surprises and overwhelms one, fed by hundreds of springs concealed his subconsciousness. One only detects its presence after having long entertained it unawares.
Childish and slender creature! It seemed as if a linnet had hopped to my foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny wing.
The infinitely strong made weak by my mess.
Animal life, sombre mystery. All nature protests against the barbarity of man, who misapprehends, who humiliates, who tortures his inferior brethren.
Whatever creature you turn into, whatever form you take, I won't let go of you.
These are the nameless larvae of the Other Gods, and like them are blind and without mind, and possessed of singular hungers and thirsts.
Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks:
He withers all in silence, and his hand
Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
A necessary monster.
Half-man, half-beast, all nightmare. The shapeshifter warrior form.
The creatures I had seen were not men, had never been men. They were animals - humanised animals - triumphs of vivisection.
My sleep that night was restless and unquiet, haunted by the ungodly howls of the horrible creature. Its yellow eyes lingered in my mind's eye as I awoke the next morning,
Monstrous, unnatural, colossal, was the thing - too far beyond all the ideas of man to be believed except in the silent damnable small hours of the morning when one cannot sleep.
It is ferocious, life, but it must eat . . .
The monster is me.
Man is the creature with a mystery in his heart that is bigger than himself.
I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind and endowed with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such as the deed which he had now done, nearly in the light of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the grave and forced to destroy all that was dear to me.
Sometimes I think there's a beast that lives inside me, in the cavern that's where my heart should be, and every now and then it fills every last inch of my skin, so that I can't help but do something inappropriate. Its breath is full of lies; it smells of spite.
Thoughts that found a maze of mermaid hair
Tangling in the tide's green fall
Now fold their wings like bats and disappear
Into the attic of the skull.
Write me a creature that thinks as well as a man or better than a man, but not like a man.
A memory swam up from the depths, its hideous, reptilian spine almost breaking the surface before it swam powerfully away from him.
He's humanoid, he's hominid, he's an aberration, he's abominable; he'd be legendary, if there were anyone left to relate legends.
I'm a monster," said the shadow of the Marquess suddenly. "Everyone says so."
The Minotaur glanced up at her. "So are we all, dear," said the Minotaur kindly. "The thing to decide is what kind of monster to be. The kind who builds towns or the kind who breaks them.
I can discover nothing in any mere animal but an ingenious machine, to which nature has given senses to wind itself up, and guard, to a certain degree, against everything that might destroy or disorder it.
There was something prehistoric about it, like a beast of a lost world
Mountain bats, those massive serpentine creatures of myth. Those ancient scavengers of the battlefield.
Barnacles on the container ship of consciousness.
What a Kraken grasps it does not lose, be it a longship or leviathan.
Levi is one of the best authors I've ever read. It's hard not to have an immediate personal response to his work. He has such a quiet tone.
All the terror I had dimly felt before rushed upon me actively and vividly, and I knew that I loathed the ancient and abhorrent creature so near me with an infinite intensity.
A slow terror slowly build
voluptuous sluggard,
I am a collector of hopes and peregrine truths, a shepherd of thoughts, ideas, projects and dreams too important not to be realized. I'm an abstract concept that has no body, no smell, no boundaries, no shape and no color. I am the omnilogos.
VAMPIRES I see things you can't see WEREWOLVES I find things that hunt you FAERIES I am your protector SHAPESHIFTERS But even I can't protect you now.
I am the creature you have not seen. I am you. I am me. The echo unforeseen. Sometimes in front, sometimes behind, A constant companion, for we are entwined.
Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
What is your name?"
"Again sir, that is no concern of yours."
"A mystery," he said. "I shall have to call you Clorinda."
...
"Judith! What the devil? exclaimed Peregrine. "Has there been an accident?"
"Judith," repeated the gentleman of the curricle pensively. "I prefer Clorinda.
The most monstrous monster is the monster with noble feelings
The most beautiful, the most spirited and the most inspiring creature ever to print foot on the grasses of America.
The monster was crumbling, shrinking, revealing a man. Only a man. A traitor and a murderer certainly, but that made him less not more.
What was the power that turned the worm into a moth? It was greater than any power the Builders had had, he was sure of that. The power that ran the city of Ember was feeble by comparison ...
A grunting nocturnal animal, a machine of flesh and blood who wasn't ashamed of himself. But he never found redemption.
Dante, or the hyena that writes poetry in tombs.
The individual human is still the creature who can wonder, who can be enchanted by a sonata, who can place symbols together to make poetry to gladden our heart, who can view a sunrise with a sense of majesty and awe.
Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.
(They change their sky, not their soul, who rush across the sea.)
The flying ship of Professor Lucifer