Quotes from Robert Bloch

The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.

I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.

Funny how we take it for granted that we know all there is to know about another person, just because we see them frequently or because of some strong emotional tie.

Horror is the removal of masks.

Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.

So I had this problem -- work or starve. So I thought I'd combine the two and decided to become a writer.

We're all not quite as sane as we pretend to be.

Magic--that's just a label, you know. Completely meaningless. It wasn't so very long ago that people were saying that electricity was magic.

That's the way girls were--they always laughed. Because they were bitches.

We all go a little mad sometimes.

Mothers sometimes are overly possessive, but not all children allow themselves to be possessed.

I haven't had this much fun since the rats ate my baby sister

I always carry a pistol when I go [to the New York Public Library]. Never did trust those stone lions.

Forget the past, let the dead bury the dead. Things were working out fine, and that was the only thing he had to remember.

Norman Bates will never die...

Norman Bates heard the noise and a shock went through him.

A boy's best friend is his mother.

Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher's knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream. And her head.

There's nothing to this telepathy business. It's all in the mind.

Henderson sighed. There was a time, he reflected, when the coming of this night meant something. A dark Europe, groaning in superstitious fear, dedicated this Eve to the grinning Unknown. A million doors had once been barred against the evil visitants, a million prayers mumbled, a million candles lit. There was something majestic about the idea, Henderson reflected.

So much for modern science and its wonderful discoveries that just about everything can kill you. Life is only a bedtime story before a long, long sleep.

All at once she could hear the sullen patter of the rain and sense the sigh of the wind behind it. She remembered the sound, because it had rained like that the day Mom was buried, the day they lowered her into that little rectangle of darkness.

Everything in this business makes sense, because it serves a real purpose, fills a need that's a part of living. Even a single nail, like this one, fulfills a function. Drive it into a crucial place and you can depend on it to do a job, keep on doing it for a hundred years to come. Long after we're dead and gone, both of us.

why do we personify time? Is it because we're afraid to admit that our lives are measured by an abstract force that neither knows nor cares about our entry into existence? Or our departure into death? Time is our mysterious master giving it a face and hands we attempt to transform it into our servant.