Quotes About Macabre

I have a soft spot in my heart for the zombies.

I would like to do a horror film with zombies!

It's a very Southern thing to be interested in dark stuff.

I try not to notice the exploded eyeballs or the ruptured tongue bursting through the blackened lips. This job is quite gross enough as it is without adding my own dry heaves to the mess.

I'm death obsessed. You know, I have death all over my house. I have a stuffed two headed sheep!

A severed foot is the ultimate stocking stuffer.

But the matter just about resolved itself of its own accord, in a tragic and macabre way. We were still at war, and among other things Dönitz could only answer, 'There is no longer any point in concerning yourself with submariners. Most of them are no longer with us …'.

Once upon a time, a girl went to see a monster menagerie where all the exhibits were dead.

Nelson's body was pickled in brandy, which was replaced with wine at Gibraltar, and brought back to England, amid macabre speculation that the Admiral's crew had drunk the embalming brandy in transit.

Horatio Nelson set the standard after he was mortally wounded by a sniper at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Nelson's body was pickled in brandy, which was replaced with wine at Gibraltar, and brought back to England, amid macabre speculation that the Admiral's crew had drunk the embalming brandy in transit.

I wants to make your flesh creep...

I love Halloween, and I love spooky stuff. I love horror movies. I love everything creepy, and I've always kind of wanted to do this, just do really dark pop.

I loved anything spooky, mysterious, or frightening.

what was going on here went well beyond weird and into the stuff of a Stephen King novel.

The carcass closest to him was the remains of the pimply youth he'd seen in Car One. The body hung upside-down, swinging back and forth to the rhythm of the train, in unison with its three fellows; an obscene danse macabre. Its arms dangled loosely from the shoulder joints, into which gashes an inch or two deep had been made, so the bodies would hang more neatly.

Every part of the dead kid's anatomy was swaying hypnotically. The tongue, hanging from the open mouth. The head, lolling on its slit neck. Even the youth's penis flapped from side to side on his plucked groin. The head wound and the open jugular still pulsed blood into a black bucket. There was an elegance about the whole sight: the sign of a job well done.

If Castle Dracula screwed a hospital, this would be the bastard offspring.

May I borrow a cup of cyanide?

I wants to make your flesh creep.

Despite their macabre imaginations, they don't believe the things they say, all those things about magic and fantômes. But I do. I know he lingers. I've heard his voice, soft as a lover's whisper.

Once and for all, let us speak the paradox aloud: "We have been force-fed for so long the shudders of a thousand graveyards that at last, seeking a macabre redemption, a salvation by horror, we willingly consume the terrors of the tomb...and find them to our liking.

André of the graveyards—a sociable corpse.

Once and for all, lets us speak the paradox aloud: "We have been force-fed for so long the shudders of a thousand graveyards that at last, seeking a macabre redemption, a salvation by horror, we willing consume the terror of the tomb... and find them to our liking.

They took a baseball bat and whacked open his head. Mummy Boy fell to the ground; he finally was dead. Inside of his head were no candy or prizes, just a few stray beetles of various sizes.