She had always found villains more exciting than heroes. They had ambition, passion. They made the stories happen. Villains didn't fear death. No, they wrapped themselves in death like suits of armor! As she inhaled the school's graveyard smell, Agatha felt her blood rush. For like all villains, death didn't scare her. It made her feel alive.

Here is a story that’s stranger than strange. Before we begin you may want to arrange:a blanket, a cushion, a comfortable seat,and maybe some cocoa and something to eat.I’ll warn you, of course, before we commence, my story is eerie and full of suspense, brimming with danger and narrow escapes, and creatures of many remarkable shapes.Dragons and ogres and gorgons and more, and creatures you’ve not even heard of before. And faraway places? There’s plenty of those! (And menacing villains to tingle your toes.)So ready your mettle and steady your heart. It’s time for my story’s mysterious start...

We always vilify what we don't understand.

I just wonder… Isn’t it better to start as a monster and become a hero? Isn’t that what creates belief? The idea that someone can change?

I can certainly identify with The Villain. A Villain is someone who has a past, who is strongly opinionated, fearless, doesn't get intimated by anything, and went beyond suffering. It's an empowerment figure.

Humans are the villains, they are the killers. That's the truth.... for god sake!

You learn eventually that, while there are no villains, there are no heroes either. And until you make the final discovery that there are only human beings, who are therefore all the more fascinating, you are liable to miss something.

This world has only two kinds of people: villains and smiling villains.

Heroes can save the world, but villains can change it.

My books have very few villains pretending to be righteous, but they are filled with good people who have pretended to be villains so well that they believe it themselves. This is how I like to view reality.

The villains were always ugly in books and movies. Necessarily so, it seemed. Because if they were attractive—if their looks matched their charm and their cunning—they wouldn't only be dang

Discouragement, fear, and depression—three villains who lurk in the dark.They slip inside souls with a blindfold and goals to shatter your dreams and extinguish your spark.Their tactics are highly effective.They crush a great many each day.And under their spell it is easy to dwellOn fiascoes and failures that end in dismay.The heart and the mind are left heavy.The last speck of will is erased.And nothing stays on when these villains are gonebut a mouthful of bile with the bitterest taste.Alas! You must conquer the scoundrels!Elude, dodge, and keep them at bay!To feel fear slink in, boring under your skin,is a sign that his brothers are well on their way.So reach for your weapons against them!Take hope and hard work in each hand!Strap faith on your hips and a prayer on your lipsand show those debasers how firmly you stand!Discouragement, fear and depression—the truth should be known of these cads.They’re empty and weak; it is your strength they seek.Deny them and life is your wish in the bag.

Most have been forgotten. Most deserve to be forgotten. The heroes will always be remembered. The best. The best and the worst. And a few who were a bit of both.

If you don't beleve in yourself, who will?' ~Maybeck

In the world of so-called villains, what we need is not another hero. What we need is to stop the influx of people who dress themselves as menaces and proceed to harm others.

Watching across the aisles, the Nevers' faces began to change. One by one, their scowls turned sorrowful, their eyes melted to hurt. Hort, Ravan, Anadil, even Hester...as if they too wished they could have such joy. As if they too wished they could feel as wanted. Gone was their will to fight, lost to broken hearts, and the villains shrank into silence, snakes drained of venom.

Our task shouldn't be punishing the villains in our lives, but enlarging the God who heals us from all wounds.

But what do you care about Qorlec?” went on Dr. Zorgone. “I heard you escaped Alsa Sif V, and immediately upon your departure,” he frowned, “you set coordinates for Earth?” He laughed softly, nastily, and Quinn felt anger shiver through her to see the twinkling mockery in his eyes. “What would your people think to know that, I wonder?” continued Dr. Zorgone, tilting his head. “The first place you ran to wasn’t Qorlec, wasn’t the ancient home of your ‘mighty’ ancestors, but the polluted shit-ball of ape people? The true home of the true empress is Earth.” His eyes danced over her, searching, hungry. “You speak Roknal and English fluently, but I bet you don’t know a damn lick of Aviye. The entirian princess isn’t even entirian --”“What do you want?” Quinn said abruptly.“What do I want?” repeated Dr. Zorgone, rolling his eyes to the starry sky. “Let’s see . . . What do I want? I always wanted an indoor pool.”Quinn’s lips tightened.

There’s no point running anyway. In t-minus ten minutes, you will have no where to run to.”Quinn tensed at the triumphant look in his eyes. “. . .what have you done?”“I have entered launch codes in the computer. In exactly ten minutes, Alpha Star 9 will be a black stain in the middle of Utah.”Quinn’s lips part in shock.“Yes,” said. Dr. Zorgone in amusement. “Dramatic gasp!

We’re happier when the assholes are villains.

If evil had a laugh, she thought it would sound like his.

No one just starts giggling and wearing black and signs up to become a villainous monster. How the hell do you think it happens? It happens to people. Just people. They make questionable choices, for what might be very good reasons. They make choice after choice, and none of them is slaughtering roomfuls of saints, or murdering hundreds of baby seals, or rubber-room irrational. But it adds up. And then one day they look around and realized that they're so far over the line that they can't remember where it was.

Justice doesn’t talk. It sings!

The novelist Dumas would one day borrow features from both of his uncles, not to mention his grandfather, the acknowledged scoundrel, in fashioning the central villains of The Count of Monte Cristo. Reading court documents detailing the sordid unraveling of Charles's sham fortune, which would have devastating effects on his daughter and her unsuspecting husband, I couldn't help thinking that one of the interesting things about Dumas's villains is that, while greedy and unprincipled themselves, they produce children who can be innocent and decent. This was something that the writer understood very well from his own family.

Yeah!” Quinn said defiantly. “And I’m about to destroy your sick little plan here! And when I’m done doing that, I’ll tell the humans how your people are planning to betray them --!”“As if that will make much difference,” said the general calmly. “Humans can’t agree on how to run individual countries, let alone their entire planet. When the harvest begins, they won’t stand a chance against us. I’ve already given Dr. Zorgone permission to execute his plans for abduction. He has also been given strict orders to return you to me alive. Both of you. You must simply walk outside. There is nothing to fear.”“Yeah, I bet,” Quinn muttered sarcastically.

Harvey Dent: You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

When I was young and I was forced to watch Disney films, I would fast forward the good guys, wasn't interested in princes and princesses, only by the villains.

But these words people threw around - humans, monsters, heroes, villains - to Victor it was all just a matter of semantics. Someone could call themselves a hero and still walk around killing dozens. Someone else could be labeled a villain for trying to stop them. Plenty of humans were monstrous, and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.

I have been sometimes way too attracted by my own villains because in a way they seem to hold the secret to the heart of the narrative.

She looked at him, his black, depthless eyes like boiling wells of oil.

(Every great character, Iz, be it on page or screen, is multidimensional. The good guys aren't all good, and the bad guys aren't all bad, and any character wholly one or the other shouldn't exist at all. Remember this when I describe the antics that follow, for though I am not a villain, I am not immune to villainy.)

He thinks he’ll be remembered as the villain in the story”She snorted.“But I forgot to tell him,” I said too quietly, opening the door, “that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.”“Oh?”I shrugged, “He was the one who let me out.

Heroes are more than just stories, they’re people. And people are complicated; people are strange. Nobody is a hero through and through, there’s always something in them that’ll turn sour... you’ll learn it one day. There are no heroes, only villains who win.

History is moving pretty quickly these days and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts.

There are no heroes and there are no villains. There are just opposing points of view. That's all history is...the viciously long battle between world views.

Heroes don't exist. And if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.

I have made calculations that would beggar your soul. What is it that villains always say at the end of stories? You and I are more alike than you think? Well,” the Marquess took September’s hand in hers and very gently kissed it. “We are. Oh, how alike we are! I feel very warmly towards you, and I only want to protect you, as I wish someone had protected me. Come, September, look out the window with me. It’s not a difficult thing. A show of faith, let’s call it.

Trying to shatter peace, even if it’s not one you agree with, is the work of the mad and the wicked.

Remember when being a villain was all about wild nights and brawls in the street?

We were thinkers not talkers.We were problems not solutions.We were heroes of the dark, villains with a spark.

Nobody is a villain in their own story. We're all the heroes of our own stories.

What do you see when you see me?' She asked him, burying her own face in his bosom. 'Do you want the truth?'She nodded.'The firing squad.''That's not the whole truth. Try again.''Insatiability,' he said with some bitterness.'That's oblique but altogether too simple. Once more,' she insisted. 'One more time.'He was silent for several minutes.'The map of a country in which I only exist by virtue of the extravagance of my metaphors.''Now you're being too sophisticated. And, besides, what metaphors do we have in common?

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence in which I contemplate what might happen next. Maybe like the villain in a movie, this is where she gives me a long spiel about her hard-up life before she kills me. Not that I totally believe she’s nefarious. Real life isn’t made up of heroes and villains. Just ordinary people making choices they have to live with.

Some writers, notably Anton Chekov, argue that all characters must be admirable, because once we've looked at anyone deeply enough and understood their motivation we must identify with them rather than judge them.

He turned one of his death rays into an ice cream maker, except he said I shouldn’t eat too much of it at once.”I nodded slowly. “Right,” I said. “That’s…sweet, I think.

Like watches over like, as the saying goes.

Villains and plots and enemies are simple things to me. But friendships are complicated, and love is harder still. It has wounded me deeper than a sword ever could.

Such a brute should underneath all his braggart tricks, his viciousness, his vileness, be a coward. But I am convinced that he was not. Because even cowardice requires a certain degree of sensitivity, and a certain value for life.

This is how The Jewel operates. Status is our sole occupation. Gossip is our currency.