Quotes About Horror

I have not seen 'It' because I don't like horror movies. I don't mess with clowns or demons.

Quite often, intent on conveying how things can go wrong for a culture (science fiction) or an individual (horror) or all of magical creation (fantasy), works of fantastika often preclude comedy, because humor gets in the way of messages of doom or struggle.

Freddy Krueger scared us. 'Hellraiser' really messed us up.

I've always said if you're comparing movies to music, then horror would be the black metal of the categories.

'Halloween' is classic Michael Myers.

There's something kind of horrific about milk. Think about it! Think about what we're doing. Milk is kind of gross.

I can't tell you how much more important watching 'Hellraiser' is to my music than listening to a Milton Babbitt piece or something.

The inspection of these chasms brought him a second pulsation of that old horror which he had used to describe to Viviette as produced in him by bottomlessness in the north heaven. The ghostly finger of limitless vacancy touched him now on the other side.

It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told.

Graham switched on the lights and bloodstains shouted at him from the walls, from the mattress and the floor. The very air had screams smeared on it. He flinched from the noise in this silent room full of dark stains drying. Graham sat on the floor until his head was quiet. Still, still, be still.

Well, Clarice, have the lambs stopped screaming?

Silence and no lambs screaming.

I woke up and heard the lambs screaming. I woke up in the dark and the lambs were screaming.

Good-bye, Clarice. Will you let me know if ever the lambs stop screaming?

Mrs. Leeds was lovely, wasn't she? You turned on the light after you cut his throat so Mrs. Leeds could watch him flop, didn't you? It was maddening to have to wear gloves when you touched her, wasn't it?

I dreamed about the nature of man, and about a courteous, reasonable, and respectable community of men - while the ghastly bloody feast went on in the temple behind them. Were they courteous and charming to one another, those sunny folk, out of silent regard for that horror?

Ten million dead. Gas. Passchendaele. Let that be now a large figure, now a chemical formula, now an historical account. But dear lord, not the Nameless Horror, the sudden prodigy sprung on a world unaware. We all saw it. There was no innovation, no special breach of nature, or suspension of familiar principles. If it came as any surprise to the public then their own blindness is the Great Tragedy, hardly the war itself.

You came to talk about the play, he said. Let me discourage you. It was written to entertain people. Like horror movies. It isn't literature, it doesn't mean anything. Wharfinger was no Shakespeare. Who was he? she said. Who was Shakespeare? It was a long time ago.

It's nothing he can see or lay hands on-sudden gases, a violence upon the air and no trace afterward...a Word, spoken with no warning into your ear, and then silence forever. Beyond its invisibility, beyond hammerfall and doomcrack, here is its real horror, mocking, promising him death with German and precise confidence, laughing down all of Tantivy's quiet decencies...no, no bullet with fins, Ace...not the Word, the one Word that rips apart the day....

wanted to believe—like a child hearing, in perfect safety, a tale of horror—that the unconscious would be like any other room, once the light was let in. That the dark shapes would resolve only into toy horses and Biedermeyer furniture. That therapy could tame it after all, bring it into society with no fear of its someday reverting. I wanted to believe, despite everything my life had been.

I have such a horror of telegrams that ask me how I am!! I always want to reply dead.

Much of the horror of a breakup is the insult to our expectations of how this story was supposed to unfold versus how it actually did.

But : We're still human. Human because we keep on battling against all these horrors, the horrors caused and not caused by us. We battle not in order to stay alive, that would be too materalistic, for we are body and spirit, but in order to love each other.

Elizabeth Báthory