Quotes from Clive Barker

Of course. Remember, I've seen you in her. And it's wonderful.

It's always what may not be shown that shows the most. Forbidden words are always the most eloquent.

We're all in it together, Harry. We're all pieces of the fisherman. I know that sounds like a bullshit answer, but you'll see, when you start to work with the dead. Everyone's complicit: the most innocent little kiddies; babies who live a day, an hour—they still have a hand in things, even their own deaths. I know that's very hard for you to get your head around right now, but take it from someone that's spent a lot of time with death.

If life was simpler we wouldn't get lost in it

Look at him. The Autarch glanced back at the captive as he spoke. He's got seconds left to live. But the leech gave him a taste and he wants it back again. A taste of what? Of the womb, Rosengarten. He said it was like being in the womb. We're all cast out. Whatever we build, wherever we hide, we're cast out.

Everywhere, in the wreckage around him, he found evidence to support the same bitter thesis: that he had encountered nothing in his life—no person, no state of mind or body—he wanted sufficiently to suffer even passing discomfort for.

They had a leader. Some rebel. Shite! I don't remember his name. You know me and names. He was a dickhead and everybody says so. And old Bitch Tits kicked him down here. He started some rebellion." "Lucifer?" "That's the one. Lucifer. They prayed to Lucifer.

If nothing was worth living for it followed, didn't it, that there was nothing worth dying for either.

Has anyone here ever heard of the Harrowing?" Dale asked, breaking the silence. No one replied. "It was in the time between Christ's crucifixion and his Resurrection," he went on. "The story goes, Christ went down into Hell, walked among the damned, and set many of them free. Then he returned to Earth and broke the bondage of death. It's supposedly the first and only amnesty Hell has ever known.

This is the state of the beast,' it said, 'to eat and be eaten.

Now, I don't believe that a god exists. I think that gods are creation of men, by men, and for men. What has happened over the many centuries now, the better part of two thousand in fact, is that God has been slowly and steadily accruing power. His church has been accruing power, and the men who run that church, and they are all men, are not about to give it up. If they give it up, they give up luxury, they give up comfort.

You still love her, don't you?" Pie said, once they were out and walking. "Of course I love her," Estabrook said. "That's why I want her dead." "There's no resurrection, Mr. Estabrook. Not for you, at least." "It's not me who's dying," he said. "I think it is," came the

Its face crinkled up grotesquely, the eyes narrowing like those of a laughing Buddha, the lips peeling back to expose a sickle of brilliant teeth.

Ili je pakao možda jedna soba, jedan krevet i ve?no uzbu?enje i želja, i ja sam bio u njemu, video sam njegovu lepotu, i ako stvari krenu najgorim tokom izdrža?u.

Suzanna had argued with zealots before — her brother had been born again at twenty-three, and given his life to Christ — she knew from experience there was no gainsaying the bigotry of faith.

Good horror fiction deals with taboos. It must always go to the limits of what is acceptable.

Everything tires with time, and starts to seek some opposition, to save it from itself. So August gave way to September and there were few complaints.

Fear gripped Harry, like some old dope-pusher promising a terrible high.

She was so beautiful, you see. Not in any two-dimensional sense: she wasn't young, she wasn't innocent, she didn't have that pristine symmetry so favored by ad-men and photographers. Her face was plainly that of a woman in her early forties: it had been used to laugh and cry, and usage leaves its marks. But she had a power to transform herself, in the subtlest way, making that face as various as the sky.

Dreams are doorways...If we but have the courage to step over the threshold.

Outside, somewhere near, the world would soon be waking. He had watched it wake from the window of this very room, day after day, stirring itself to another round of fruitless pursuits, and he'd known, known, that there was nothing left out there to excite him.

No passion, only sudden lust, and just as sudden indifference.

Winning is beauty. It is like life itself.

Three is the number of those who do holy work; Two is the number of those who do lovers work; One is the number of those who do perfect evil Or perfect good.