Quotes About Horror

I don't want to just make horror movies; I don't want to just make any type of movie - I don't just like horror movies, I love movies.

In the face of horror ... there is no other answer than the cross of Christ: Love that descends to the abyss of evil.

I love the expression 'makes your skin crawl,' because when you have that sensation while you're watching something, it really does.

I love watching a good, freaky horror movie. I love it. It's one of my favorite things to do, to go and see at the cinema. Just to tune out and be freaked out.

In a universe of love there can be no heaven which tolerates a chamber of horrors.

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

I love The Walking Dead. I'm a massive fan of that show.

I've always loved... actually I didn't always love horror films. I started out and I only liked comedies and dramas.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the great documenter of the slave-labour-camp horrors of the latter, once wrote that the "pitiful ideology" holding that "human beings are created for happiness" was an ideology "done in by the first blow of the work assigner's cudgel.

It is our responsibility to see what is before our eyes, courageously, and to learn from it, even if it seems horrible—even if the horror of seeing it damages our consciousness, and half-blinds us. The act of seeing is particularly important when it challenges what we know and rely on, upsetting and destabilizing us.

Horror and terror lurk behind the walls provided so wisely by our ancestors. We tear them down at our peril. We skate, unconsciously, on thin ice, with deep, cold waters below, where unimaginable monsters lurk.

Chaos is the domain of ignorance itself. It's unexplored territory. Chaos is what extends, eternally and without limit, beyond the boundaries of all states, all ideas, and all disciplines. It's the foreigner, the stranger, the member of another gang, the rustle in the bushes in the night-time, the monster under the bed, the hidden anger of your mother, and the sickness of your child. Chaos is the despair and horror you feel when you have been profoundly betrayed.

What has emerged from behind its corpse, however—and this is an issue of central importance—is something even more dead; something that was never alive, even in the past: nihilism, as well as an equally dangerous susceptibility to new, totalizing, utopian ideas. It was in the aftermath of God's death that the great collective horrors of Communism and Fascism sprang forth (as both Dostoevsky and Nietzsche predicted they would).

We must have the meaning inherent in a profound system of value or the horror of existence rapidly becomes paramount. Then, nihilism beckons, with its hopelessness and despair.

Horror and terror lurk behind the walls provided so wisely by our ancestors.

But even what is terrible in actuality often pales in significance compared to what is terrible in imagination. And often what cannot be confronted because of its horror in imagination can in fact be confronted when reduced to its-still-admittedly-terrible actuality.

Victor, back there in that basement, when the zombies were… were… moving around on those tables…. Twitching? And dead? You didn't even blink. This is nothing like those zombies. No shit. Because this time, you're scared—beyond scared. You're terrified. And whatever's got you scared? I don't want any part of it.

But that which remains for ever incomprehensible is the initial horror, the horror imposed on each of us, of having to live, and that is a mystery no philosophy can explain.

In una notte di orrore, gli uomini hanno inventato l'arte.

Oh! think what anxious moments pass between the birth of plots, and their last fatal periods. Oh! 'Tis a dreadful interval of time, filled up with horror all, and big with death!

Just one thing worse than the dark, ain't there? And that's what's inside it - the things that call it home ...

For the young man from Moscow whose head was filled with thoughts of the beautiful and sublime, the moral mediocrity of his comrade came as a withering disillusionment. And if he had been out raged by the incident of the government courier, one can well imagine his horror of the savagery of the upper classes toward all those to whom they stood in a position of authority.

As he fled he caught glimpses from the corner of his eye, and his only reaction was to run faster, so fast that his straining heart was at bursting point. Glimpses of something starved beyond the point of living, as white as bone, running along beside him on all fours like an animal, yet more twisted and unnatural than any he had ever seen before. He didn't dare to look round at whatever was pursuing him, for fear he might just give up, stop running, and let whatever it was claim him.

The apprentice let out a shriek; his paws flailed as he tried to dig his claws into the powdery surface. Leafstar gazed in horror as his small body plummeted down. Off balance, Sharpclaw barely saved himself from following. Sagepaw's shriek was cut off as he struck a jutting boulder, bounced off, and fell the rest of the way to the foot of the cliff, landing with an ugly thud. He lay motionless on the trail between the cliff and the river.