Clive Barker
Clive Barker
Clive Barkeris an English writer, film director, and visual artist best known for his work in both fantasy and horror fiction. Barker came to prominence in the mid-1980s with a series of short stories, the Books of Blood, which established him as a leading horror writer. He has since written many novels and other works, and his fiction has been adapted into films, notably the Hellraiser and Candyman series. He was the Executive Producer of the film Gods and Monsters...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth5 October 1952
Let the mad find wisdom in their madness for the sane, and let the sane be grateful.
It’s only when you’ve lost someone that you realize the nonsense of that phrase “It’s a small world”. It isn’t. It’s a vast, devouring world, especially if you’re alone.
Make your own worlds. Make your own laws. Make your own creations, your own star systems. Don't feel answerable to anyone, or as though you have to create after some preordained model. You don't have to write like myself, or King or Anne Rice: be yourself. Nothing is more wonderful than discovering a new voice, particularly if it happens to be your own.
We're both thieves, Harvey Swick. I take time. You take lives. But in the end we're the same: both Thieves of Always.
I don't take accusations of selling out lightly.
My imagination is my polestar; I steer by that.
You'll learn, honey. Love can be the best thing in life. And it can be the worst. The absolute worst.
There is no delight the equal of dread
Midian is where the monsters go.
Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree, But it was eaten by a newt, And now I have no cuddly fruit, O woe is me, O woe is me, I used to have a hamster tree!
To call you excrement would be an insult to the product of my bowels.
I have the normal complement of anxieties, neuroses, psychoses and whatever else - but I'm absolutely nothing special.
Fear is a place where you just tell the truth
We each die countless little deaths on our way to the last. We die out of shame as humiliation. We perish from despair. And, of course, we die for love.