Quotes from Clive Barker

Allí el placer era dolor, y viceversa. Y él lo conocía tan bien que era como sentirse en casa.

You've got blood on your hands, and you smell of coitus.

was enough to know they had no Devil on their backs. Just old humanity, cheated of love, and ready to pull down the world on its head.

Some die too soon. Most live too long.

May there be a cleansing in your absolution.

So many masks. Was she the only one who had no secret life, no other self in marrow or mind?

Well, I am denying it. You think the world revolves around sex. It's pathetic.

What time didn't steal from under your nose, circumstance did. It was useless to hope otherwise. Useless to dream that the world somehow meant you good.

Do demons have ghosts?' Norma asked him. 'Of course,' Knotchee replied. 'There will always be those who won't let go of who they were.

The proximity of this harem aroused him, despite circumstances. He opned his trousers and caressed his cock, more eager to have the seed spilled and so be freed of these creatures than for the pleasure of it.

As much as you feel as though you need to find some relevant bit of information for your story to work, research distracts from your writing and inevitably leads you down a rabbit hole of websites and articles and, more than likely, the temptation of checking your email or your Facebook profile or the baseball scores on ESPN.

It feels like I've died, he said to Caz when he'd finished. Well, you didn't. And I should be grateful, right? Right. Well, I'm not.

Of all the rash and midnight promises made in the name of love, none, Boone now knew, was more certain to be broken than "I'll never leave you".

I wanted to be gone forever from being and knowing, which are the pieces of

He offered her a grin designed for better teeth.

He told me he loved me, Clem.' Oh Lord.' 'And I believed him.' 'How many dozens of men have told you that?' 'Yes, but he was different 'Famous last words.

The Deluge wasn't a wave, was it? It was blind men with axes; it was the great on their knees begging not to die at the hands of idiots; it was the itch of the irrational grown to an epidemic.

Your kind has a supersitious terror of things ugly and broken; you gear that their conditon may somehow infect you.

Nothing's right .... except what you feel and know.

with time, it would all come to fit in some grand design, or so his untethered thoughts persuaded him.

Spring, if it lingers more than a week beyond its span, starts to hunger for summer to end the days of perpetual promise

You think I'm finished, so you're leaving me to be crucified by every piece of shit journalist in the fucking country.

The Hell Priest had begun to utter what sounded like a cross between a chant and an equation: numbers and words intertwined.

Con el tiempo todas las cosas se cansan y comienzan a buscar algún oponente que las salve de sí mismas.