Quotes from Clive Barker

How many human eyes ... had snatched glimpses of their secret anatomies, down the passage of years?

the scent of sweet cherry had attracted hundreds of ants. They were crawling over it and into it, many drowning for their greed.

The Devil is by no means the worst that there is; I would rather have dealings with him than with many a human being. He honours his agreements much more promptly than many a swindler on Earth. To be true, when payment is due he comes on the dot; just as twelve strikes, fetches his soul and goes off home to Hell like a good Devil. He's just a businessman as is right and proper. —-J.N. NESTROY, Hollenangst

Love makes its demands, and you listen. You can't bargain with it. You can't fight it. Not if it's really love.

After all, where can the glorious, the goofy, and the god-like stand shoulder to shoulder?

As long as they could still be moved by a minor chord, or brought to a crisis of tears by scenes of lovers reunited; as long as there was room in their cautious hearts for games of chance, and laughter in the face of God, that must surely be enough to save them, at the last. If not, there was no hope for any living thing.

Dawn was close. The weaker stars had already disappeared, and even the brightest were uncertain of themselves.

Zombies are the liberal nightmare. Here you have the masses, whom you would love to love, appearing at your front door with their faces falling off; and you're trying to be as humane as you possibly can, but they are, after all, eating the cat. And the fear of mass activity, of mindlessness on a national scale, underlies my fear of zombies.

Never a truer word said or thought. Anything was possible.

Hell was easy; romance was hard.

Pleasure was pain there, and vice versa. And he knew it well enough to call it home.

which should teach you something about this world. That it's a place where whatever you work for and care about is bound to be taken away from you sooner or later, and there isn't a thing you can do about it.

He was to be their page, their book, the vessel for their autobiographies. A book of blood. A book made of blood. A book written in blood.

Anyway, it's gone. And there's nothing left in my pocket to charm you. So from now on it's going to have to be tears or nothing I'm afraid. That's all I've got left to tell you see: tears, tears, tears.

I have the normal complement of anxieties, neuroses, psychoses and whatever else - but I'm absolutely nothing special.

I don't like PG-13 horror movies. I think they're a contradiction in terms.

Academe was one of the last strongholds of the professional time-waster.

The question that lay before me, and I had so far failed to answer, was the way these connections might best be expressed. My mind was filled with possibilities but I had no real sense of how all that I knew was arrayed and dispersed; no sense of the pattern.

What did it matter, anyway, he thought, whether this was a real place or a dream? It felt real, and that was all that mattered.

I have such sights to show you. Soon, you will have answers to questions you have never even dared to ask.

I don't like to make a distinction between the writer and the painter , finally , because I do both things anyway . Everybody's dreaming and trying to put down their dreams in the way that their hand knows best . I feel as much a unity , as much comradeship , with painters as I do writers .

Minds weren't pictures at an exhibition, all numbered, and hung in order of influence, one marked Cunning, the next, Impressionable. They were scrawls; they were sprawling splashes of graffiti, unpredictable, unconfinable.

Perhaps the House had heard Harvey wishing for a full moon, because when he and Wendell traipsed upstairs and looked out the landing window, there--hanging between the bare branches of the trees--was a moon as wide and as white as a dead man's smile.

After a battle lasting many ages, The Devil won, And said to God (who had been his Maker): Lord, We are about to witness the unmaking of Creation By my hand. I would not wish you to think me cruel, So I beg you, take three things From this world before I destroy it. Three things, and then the rest will be wiped away. God thought for a little time. And at last He said: No, there is nothing. The Devil was surprised. Not even you, Lord? he said. And God said: No. Not even me.