All Quotes tagged Murder(263)

I am deeply hurt by your calling me a weman-hater. I am not. But I am a monster. I am the ‘son of Sam’. I am a little brat. When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats our family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood. ‘Go out and kills’ commands father Sam. Behind our house some rest. Mostly young - raped and slaughtered - their blood drained - just bones now. Pap Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can't get out but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by. I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wavelength then everybody else - programmed to kill. However, to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: shoot me first - shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die. Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has too many heart attacks. ‘Ugh, me hoot, it hurts, sonny boy.’ I miss my pretty princess most of all. She's resting in our ladies house. But i'll see her soon. I am the ‘monster’ – ‘Beelzebub’ - the chubby behemouth. I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking for fair game - tasty meat. The wemon of Queens are prettiest of all. I must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt - my life. Blood for papa. Mr. Borelli, sir, I don't want to kill any more. No sur, no more but I must, ‘honour thy father’. I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don't belong on earth. Return me to yahoos. To the people of Queens, I love you. And i want to wish all of you a happy Easter. May God bless you in this life and in the next. And for now I say goodbye and goodnight. Police: Let me haunt you with these words: I'll be back. I'll be back. To be interpreted as - bang, bang, bang, bang - ugh. Yours in murder, Mr. Monster.

I was paroled to my mother, OK? What these experts don’t notice in the picture—i haven’t seen it in writing anywhere, it could be somewhere, um, that when I was fourteen years old I ran away from my mother. They mention that, OK. But if you look at that in the overall picture, why did I run away? I wanted to be with my father. That’s a very topical approach to it. I wanted to get away from my mother because I was dreaming, thinking, fantasizing murder. All day long. I couldn’t get it out of my head. She and I—I couldn’t battle with her, because I was very intimidated by her. She’s six feet tall, she weighs two and a quarter—225 pounds, she’s not a fat woman, she’s just this great big woman who I was terrified of. She had, uh, verbal capabilities you wouldn’t believe. I used to watch her field-strip grown men in emotional little contests. And when they’d get to the point where they wanted to smack her, then she’d start attacking them on beating women. ‘Oh, slap the woman around!,’ you know. And she’d toy with them on that and I’d watch these guys dance around the room having fits, knocking out windows, punch a hole in the door and then stomp off. And she could control people like that. I’m sitting there watching that in awe from one point of view and in terror from the other. I grew up with this stuff….I’m not trying to put on her what happened to the girls or to her. But I’m saying there was a lot of psychological involvement there.