Quotes About Macabre

The only exercise I ever got was carrying dead bodies.

Uncle Fester always intrigued me. I certainly always enjoyed his kind of humor. He's just full of mischief in a kind of macabre way. I don't see anything twisted about it. It's sort of ridiculous and wacky. It's sort of fun.

I'm going to kill Jude this afternoon for fun, then eat my own putrid kidney for dinner.

When I was a teenager, I read a lot of Poe.

Joe's Mortuary, you stab 'em, we slab 'em.

Heebiejeebieville.

Many years later, understanding it all, the Baron de Luetz, who survived, used to tell how that day they left the Sublime Porte to the measure of the Chorea Machabaeorum, the Danse Macabre, the Danza General de los Muertos.

I'm an enormous admirer of Christopher Lee. He's somebody, along with Vincent Price, who I celebrate, and I wanted my movies to show that celebration and that honoring of these great film stars that were unafraid to go into horror and Grand Guignol and the macabre.

Rather than a taste for the macabre, I like the full range of human emotion in a story, which means darkness and light. It means warmth, but it also potentially means scares.

I eat the hearts of girls and puke slugs and snails.

I'm always interested in horror and the supernatural.

He looked a lot more like a dead man than most dead men look.

Look at that Barkovitch. He ain't in it to get no Prize. He's just walkin' to see other people die. He lives on it. When someone gets a ticket, he gets a little more go-power. It ain't enough. He'll dry up just like a leaf on a tree.

Wanna see how creepy I can be?"-Mr Teatime

The other was short, thin, looking like a talent scout for a cemetery.

This is what my girlfriend would look like without skin.

As far as thinking about death and murder and various ways of killing people and how people die... I probably have the most twisted mind in Slayer.

I want a room decorated with bones! Dan said. Where'd they come from? Cemeteries, Amy said. Back in the 1700s, the cemeteries were getting overcrowded, so they decided to dig up tons of old bodies–all their bones–and move them into the Catacombs. The thing is...look at the dates. See when they started moving bones into the Catacombs? Dan squinted at the screen. He didn't see what she was talking about. Is it my birthday?

Tall, dark, and gruesome. -Tori

On horror's head horrors accumulate.

A man. A dead man. A dead man with no arms.

The man-shaped arrangement of meat rose up, as if functioning as one body. It pushed itself up on two arms made of game hens and country bacon, planting two hands with sausage-link fingers on the floor. The phrase "sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist" suddenly flew through my mind. Finally it stood fully upright, looking like the mascot for a butcher shop whose profits went entirely to support the owner's acid habit.

Black is a good color anytime you're flinging around blood.

The macabre who lived through the war have a story they loved to tell about the soldiers of the Foreign Legion giving a ball in the expanses around Verdun and dancing with the corpses. Alabama's continued brewing of the poisoned filter for a semiconscious banquet table, her insistence on the magic and glamor of life when she was already feeling its pulse like the throbbing of an amputated leg, had something of the same sinister quality.