Scott Nicholson > Quotes

“The rain fell like dead bullets.”
― Scott Nicholson

“Then on your tombstone, where you only get a little bit of space to sum up your life, some wax-faced creep chisels a set of meaningless numbers instead of poetry or a secret love or the name of your favorite candy.

In the end, all you get is a few words.”
― Scott Nicholson

“Some artists are normal people who just happen to make things because we can't figure out how in the hell to communicate with people.”
― Scott Nicholson, The Manor

“Can’t wait to sit down for a while. This pretending to be brave and strong is getting old.”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“That would be just dandy. All we’d have to do is sit back and wait for them to wipe each other out. But that doesn’t explain the message written in blood. That’s the mark of a seriously deranged mind. An intelligent mind, but one without a conscience.”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“But we’re not a family.”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“What do we do when it gets dark?”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“Readers respond to authenticity, originality and excitement, even if it’s not packaged in a way they expect.”
― Scott Nicholson, Write Good or Die

“Behold the power of bacon,”
― Scott Nicholson, Crystal & Bone

“...people never gave away their hearts, however willing or desperate or lonely they were. Hearts always had to be taken. By force or trickery. Love was murder, the infliction of death by cardiac theft, and the alternative was even worse.”
― Scott Nicholson, The Manor

“Lying, like marksmanship and tomato growing, got easier with practice. He”
― Scott Nicholson, The Red Church

“the pistol DeVontay had given her, but she’d found another in the house they’d slept in two nights before. It was heavy and shiny and had probably never been fired. The bullets in the revolver’s chamber were fatter than what she was used to, so she assumed it would pack a hefty kick. But she hadn’t had a chance for target practice. Until now. She fished it from her pack and leaned more heavily against the tree, taking some of the weight off her injured leg. If she fired the gun, Zapheads would come from miles around. The”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“fire. A blood-chilling caw cracked the brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city of mutants.”
― Scott Nicholson, Afterburn

“all a pretty face does is hide the ugly underneath, don’t it?”
― Scott Nicholson, The Red Church

“Yeah. The crazy people. The ones who changed after the solar storms."
"We've all changed."
She couldn't argue with that, [...]
"You may have noticed that we - that is, if you are one of us - are no different. Morally, you could make a case that ours is a greater sin, because we're aware of our violent actions." [...]
"You're aware you're giving a morality lecture to a woman you've tied to a chair, right?”
― Scott Nicholson, The Shock

“brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city”
― Scott Nicholson, Afterburn

“What the hell is he talking about? Then he saw them, gathering in formation like tiny jets on a strafing run. He thought at first they were doves, but that made no sense, because doves didn’t congregate in such coordinated patterns and they were too far inland to be seagulls. He couldn’t judge their size or distance, so high and feathery was”
― Scott Nicholson, Afterburn

“The end was right up close and personal, different for each person, a kick in the rear and a joy-buzzer handshake from the Reaper himself. But”
― Scott Nicholson, The Red Church

“The end of the world had taught Rachel Wheeler many lessons, but the most recent one was this: Running for your life was a bitch when you only had one leg. She tightened the moist, stained bandana that kept the worst of the leaking to a minimum, then hobbled forward another ten feet. The wild dog that had bitten her could have inflicted any number of infections, but it wasn’t like she could hobble into the ER and”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“You put a weasel in a forty-dollar suit, and you get a forty-dollar weasel.”
― Scott Nicholson, The Red Church

“I’m the government now,” Sarge said. “Sure, there might be other bunkers like this one. Maybe even our beloved president is playing a hand of poker and drinking beer in one as we speak. I’ve heard rumors there are serious bunkers out in Colorado where they have entire armored divisions and even planes in shielded bunkers, where the electromagnetic pulse wouldn’t have affected them. Maybe even the Russians and Chinese are already rolling this way.”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“Then he knew what hell was like. It wasn't a hot place where a pointy-tailed beast poked you with a pitchfork. Hell was inside your own head, where the doors were closed, where hope never knocked, where darkness and pain and self-pity were the only companions. Forever.”
― Scott Nicholson, The Home

“He glared at Jorge. “I doubt you’re American, but we’ll throw you in as a bonus.”
― Scott Nicholson, Milepost 291

“It wouldn’t be heaven without a dog, would it?”
― Scott Nicholson, The Shock

“them. Experience suggested such places were more likely to harbor danger than supplies. Not that the”
― Scott Nicholson, Afterburn

“Glory and honor were found as much in defeat as in victory. Maybe more so, when the war was senseless and never-ending.”
― Scott Nicholson, Drummer Boy

“The bullet drilled through her skull and sent shards of bone and chunks of brain tissue flying in a reddish-brown burst, like a saucy burrito heated too long in a microwave.”
― Scott Nicholson, Bone and Cinder

“Can a body love something so much that her heart aches with the loving?”
― Scott Nicholson, The Red Church

“suppose you’re going to lie about your maggot pudding, and that’s why you’ve hidden it away. Because you’re so proud.” “Oh, no,” she said. “The Reverend’s coming, and he’s a vegetarian, so he can’t have maggots.”
― Scott Nicholson, Missing Pieces: Short Stories

“Second General Rule of Thumb on Self Promotion Make your next book a better book.”
― Scott Nicholson, Write Good or Die