Quotes About Gore

When I go see an R-rated horror movie, I want lots of violence.

There's always a tone that you have to hit right in horror. With the blood, you want to make sure that it makes sense all along.

I was a huge horror fan, especially in my teenage years. Back then, there were a lot of Italian horror movies - some zombie, some just really strange movies that made no sense. I was really into shock and gore.

What I love about 'The Walking Dead' is it's a human story, which is to me what makes the comic book so good, but once you jump from the pages of the book to the screen, the gore and the zombies have to look great.

A mix of human and lizard and who knows what else. White, tight reptilian skin smeared with gore, clawed hands and feet, their faces a mess of conflicting features.

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.

It was then I truly realised the whale is no more a fish than I am. So much blood. This was not like the fish on the quay, fresh caught, lying flipping and flopping, death on a simmer. This was a fierce, boiling death. She died thrashing blindly in a slick of gore, full of pain and fury, gnashing her jaws, beating her tail, spewing lumps of slime and half-digested fish that fell stinking about us. It was vile. So much strength dies slowly.

I love scary movies. I like blood and gore, and I love Halloween movies.

Back at the scene of the rollover they had brought in the dogs, who got one snootful of all the guts and gore scattered all over the place and, after a whispered conference, expressed their regrets and respectfully declined to participate.

The beautiful thing about 'The Strain Trilogy' is the ability to move from gore to high fable to creeping dread to domestic drama to unbearable suspense to the uncanny and on and on. The epic journey is designed to support these swings in mood, and that complements my tastes, which are wide-ranging.

The Place would already have started the leisurely, enjoyable process of digesting her into just one more piece of local gore-lore, half ghost story and half morality play, half urban myth and half just the way life goes. It would eat her memory whole, the same way its ground had eaten her body.

The empire on which the sun never set was also the empire on which the gore never dried.

What this movie needs is more brain eating zombies.

Reading in a sound booth seems very strange. Everyone has a process they are comfortable with; this was uncomfortable for me.

Lucio Fulci is such a massively underrated director. Everyone knows him as the Godfather of Gore.

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.

Gore pushed the National Information Infrastructure Act of 1993, which made the Internet widely available to the general public and moved it into the commercial sphere so that its growth could be funded by private as well as government investment.

Vint Cerf and Bob Kahn, two of the people who did in fact invent the Internet's protocols, spoke up on Gore's behalf.

It's a mark of our political discourse that one of the significant nonpartisan achievements on behalf of American innovation got turned into a punch line because of something that Gore never quite said—that he "invented" the Internet.

The name of the film was Gore Feast. True to its name, Gore Feast had been moving along at a ferocious clip, serving up fresh bodies to mutilate at regular five-minute intervals. Heads staved in with hammers. Eyes turned to pudding with eggbeaters. Torsos dangling from meathooks. Brains in blenders. Kidney pie. It made Rudy very hungry indeed.

Nobody heard the two shots, but plenty of people saw Warren's head explode, or felt the wet gore splatter them, or saw his headless body drop to the ground, blood pouring from his neck like a dropped carton of milk.

The behaviour of President Bush on 11 September certainly gives rise to not unnatural suspicions.

Blood and brain tissue clung to the wet rock like the refuse of a sad picnic.

Goshawks are things of death and blood and gore, but they are not excuses for atrocities. Their inhumanity is to be treasured because what they do has nothing to do with us at all.