Clive Barker Quotes - Page 6

• In this sense love is of a different order to any other phenomenon, for it may be both an event and a sign of that invisible mechanism I spoke of before; perhaps the finest sign, the most certain. In it’s throes we need neither luck nor science. We are the wheel, and the man who profits by it. We are the star, and the darkness it pierces. We are the butterfly, brief and beautiful.

  Clive Barker

  Beautiful, Stars, Butterfly

  "Galilee". Book by Clive Barker, February 3, 1999.

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• We have great cities to visit: New York and Washington, Paris and London; and further east, and older than any of these, the legendary city of Samarkand, whose crumbling palaces and mosques still welcome travelers on the Silk road. Weary of cities? Then we’ll take to the wilds. To the islands of Hawaii and the mountains of Japan, to forests where Civil War dead still lie, and stretches of sea no mariner ever crossed. They all have their poetry: the glittering cities and the ruined, the watery wastes and the dusty; I want to show you them all. I want to show you everything.

  Clive Barker

  New York, War, Lying

  "Galilee". Book by Clive Barker, February 3, 1999.

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• She was a sea: and I had to swim in her.

  Clive Barker

  Sea, Swim

  Clive Barker (1986). “Clive Barker's Books of Blood”, Berkley

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• Y con el tiempo será como si los hombres nunca hubieran llegado a este rincón perfecto del mundo, nunca lo hubieran llamado el paraíso en la tierra, nunca lo hubieran despojado con sus fábricas de sueños; y en el silencio dorado de la tarde todo lo que se oirá será el revoloteo de las libélulas y el murmullo de los colibríes cuando pasen de enramada en enramada, buscando un lugar para cenar dulzura.

  Clive Barker

  Dream, Men, Paradise On Earth

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• Whatever capacity she possesses to supernaturally beguile a human soul—and she possesses many—she liked his clear-sightedness too well, to blind him that way.

  Clive Barker

  Soul, Way, Blind

  Clive Barker (2010). “Galilee”, p.4, HarperCollins UK

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• Well, here he was. They could save each other, the way the poets promised lovers should. He was mystery, he was darkness, he was all she had dreamed of. And if she would only free him he would service her - oh yes - until her pleasure reached that threshold that, like all thresholds, was a place where the strong grew stronger, and the weak perished. Pleasure was pain there, and vice versa. And he knew it well enough to call it home.

  Clive Barker

  Strong, Pain, Home

  Clive Barker (1991). “The Hellbound Heart”, Voyager

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• There are lives lived for love, and lives lived for art. We, happy band, have chosen the later persuasion.

  Clive Barker

  Art, Life And Love, Band

  FaceBook post by Clive Barker from Nov 02, 2012

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• By and large I think art is made by people who have discipline married to talent in sufficiently large amounts to work even if they don't feel like it. Anybody can get maudlin and decide to write poetry at 11 at night; the question is, can you do it at 8:30 on a Monday morning..?

  Clive Barker

  Art, Monday, Morning

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• If we have nothing to do but service our own pleasure - because society has taught us that's all we're worth and we're exiled from positions of authority from which we could actually shape society - then we just become hedonists. Eventually, despite how great it may look on Saturday night, come Monday morning there's just purposelessness.

  Clive Barker

  Monday, Morning, Night

  "Lord of ILLUSION". Interview with Charles lsherwood, www.clivebarker.com. February 21, 1995.

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• I've held a brain in my hands, which is an extraordinary experience.

  Clive Barker

  Hands, Brain, Extraordinary

  FaceBook post by Clive Barker from Jan 07, 2013

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• Why'd you want to sing about sad things?" Candy had asked him. "Because any fool can be happy," he'd said to her. "It takes a man with real heart" —he'd made a fist and laid it against his chest— "to make beauty out of the stuff that makes us weep.

  Clive Barker

  Real, Corazón, Hombres

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• A Harvey no le interesaba la ropa, eran las máscaras las que le hipnotizaban. Eran como copos de nieve: no había dos iguales. Algunas eran de madera y plástico, otras de paja, tela y cartón piedra. Algunas eran brillantes como loros, otras pálidas como pergaminos. Algunas eran tan grotescas que estaba seguro de que las habían tallado unos locos; otras eran tan perfectas que parecían máscaras mortuorias de ángeles. Había máscaras de payasos y zorros, máscaras como calaveras decoradas con dientes de verdad, y una con llamas talladas en lugar de pelo.

  Clive Barker

  Crazy, Real, Angel

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• Angels have very nasty tempers. Especially when they’re feeling righteous.

  Clive Barker

  Angel, Feelings, Nasty

  FaceBook post by Clive Barker from Apr 19, 2013

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• You have to taste the sour urine before you break the jug.

  Clive Barker

  Jugs, Taste, Break

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• Leudar el pan plano de lo que conocemos, con la levadura de lo que soñamos que puede llegar a suceder.

  Clive Barker

  Dream, May, Yeast

  "Abarat". Book by Clive Barker, September 1, 2002.

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• How many human eyes...had snatched glimpses of their secret anatomies, down the passage of years?

  Clive Barker

  Eye, Years, Secret

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• Never believe your eyes

  Clive Barker

  Believe, Eye

  Clive Barker (1989). “Cabal”, Pocket

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• Journey to the end of day, Come the fire-fly, Come the moon; Say a prayer for God's good grace And sleep with lore upon your face.

  Clive Barker

  Prayer, Sleep, Moon

  "Abarat". Book by Clive Barker, 2002.

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• Maybe the man had taken the wrong turning, but at least he'd travelled some extraordinary roads.

  Clive Barker

  Taken, Men, Extraordinary

  Clive Barker (2015). “Weaveworld”, p.279, Crossroad Press

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• The paintings of Francis Bacon to my eye are very beautiful. The paintings of Bosch or Goya are to my eye very beautiful. I've also stood in front of those same paintings with people who've said, 'let's get on to the Botticellis as soon as possible.' I have lingered, of course.

  Clive Barker

  Hermoso, Arte, Ojo

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• A soul of water a soul of stone. A soul by name a soul unknown. The hours unmake our flesh our bone. The Soul is all and all alone!

  Clive Barker

  Names, Water, Soul

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• The great grey beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive.

  Clive Barker

  Alive, February, Beast

  Clive Barker (2014). “The Thief of Always”, p.10, HarperCollins UK

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• I think that horror fiction is one of the ways to approach these problems of death.

  Clive Barker

  Thinking, Fiction, Way

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• After all, where can the glorious, the goofy, and the god-like stand shoulder to shoulder?

  Clive Barker

  Goofy, Shoulders, Glorious

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• 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!

  Clive Barker

  Woe Is Me, Tree, Tunes

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