Quotes from Clive Barker

Nothing would take him, he was a barbarian with the manners of a gentleman. Neither

Only when they have outrun the all-too-eager shadows of the Canyon and they are back in the glare of the billboards on Sunset Boulevard, do they wipe their clammy palms, and wonder to themselves how it was that in such a harmless

He took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped hard at his mouth, back and forth, as though a residue of guilt clung there and he was afraid it would give him away.

But he'd brought new wisdom from the high places. He knew now that things forgotten might be recalled; things lost, found again.

Zombies are the ideal late twentieth-century monsters. A zombie is the one thing you can't deal with. It survives anything. Frankenstein's monster and Dracula could be sent down in so many ways. Zombies, though, fall outside all this. You can't argue with them. They just keep coming at you.

He became aware (was it just his dream life, denied its span in sleepless nights, spreading into wakefulness?) of another world, hovering beyond or behind the facade of reality.

He stood dressed in voluminous robes of thrice-burned silk (the blackest, most portentous; the silk of all melancholias) and studied the lightless waters of the Izabella as the barge sped on.

Each of these parts has a different father and mother, but he assembled me. The creature was given life eight years earlier in a charnel-house in Prague: An abattoir and me its fruit, its marvellous boy...I was a clean slate, with no memory of what this brain had been, but I knew my condition. Living corruption, a crowd sewn together in one skin. Anarchy in every limb, and bones that ached to go to dust.

I thought I'd gone to the limits,' Frank explains. 'I hadn't. The Cenobites gave me an experience beyond limits. Pain and pleasure, indivisible....Some things have to be endured. Take it from me. And that's what makes the pleasures so sweet.

I dream of broken hearts tonight, And one of them is mine. It will not mend with sympathy, It won't be healed by wine. The only balm I can concieve To put the hurt to right, Would be, my sweat, of you Were not to live beyond tonight.

Not a whisper of flatulence would dare this man's bowels.

That which can be imagined need never be lost.

what would a Resurrection be without a few laughs?

She got up and crossed to the window. Like father like daughter, he thought: window freaks, both of them.

There's nothing heroic about sacrificing yourself for him," Zeffer pointed out. "He wouldn't do it for you." "I know that.

Discretion's the better part of valor

I begin. I write a draft without ever looking back. Without ever touching what's gone before. Because I think it will be shit, so I daren't look back. I write a draft. I start again. I have the text when I start the second draft and then I do the same thing a third time. - To Linda L. Richards, The January Interview

es mejor estar preparados para lo peor y es de sabios aprender a caminar antes de perder el aliento.

He was not happier at his mother's nipple than in that ring of demons.

What was below could remain below no longer. The Nightbreed were rising.

He had seen her wake in the morning like a slut, and pick murdered men from between her teeth, and suicides from the tangles of her hair. He had seen her late at night, her dirty back streets shamelessly courting depravity. He had watched her in the hot afternoon, sluggish and ugly, indifferent to the atrocities that were being committed every hour in her throttled passages. It was no Palace of Delights.

But better to be buried in the rubble than succumb to the Mask. And be flattered, at the end, that Fate had at least offered her a choice of extinctions.

No tears, please. It's a waste of good suffering.

Legends are not born or made, they just are.