Quotes about horror-authors

Sulphurous wind gusted in his wake the dust of the street swirled and the folds of his black coat flapped against his thin body.

Inhale every blessing you can think of, and exhale all that is not. Like a fist that can always get tighter, you can always give more. It is essential that you know that in your heart, and you will survive this day as you have so many in the past. You can get through this. I believe in the power of you.

Monsters are real and ghosts are real too they live inside us and sometimes they win.

Most people on the ledge of a tall building were not afraid they'd fall they were afraid they'd jump.

DON'T BE JEALOUS OF OTHERS - EVER. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY HAD TO DO TO GET TO WHERE THEY ARE.

You Don't Have To Be The Best Writer In The World To Become A Successful Author. However, You Do Need To Sell Lots of Books.

I know having a job can sometimes be very challenging, but not having one can be too.

Writing is a lonely act. When two writers come together to write a horror story it can be crazy. You can't step on a mine and hope it doesn't explode.

Sometimes good people do bad things.

The stink of rot and ruin, of old dreams, broken screams, and wicked, dirty little things.

Did I never tell you Sassicaia makes me horny?

In a way, Darius brings the vampire back to a more classical interpretation. A modern day Dracula who is charming, sensual, and completely monstrous. There is no pretense of humanity with him. He considers himself a member of a species that is the true apex predator of the world, feeding on humans and using them as puppets for their own bizarre games. He's not struggling with any inner angst. Most humans are either food, entertainment, or useful tools to him. Sometimes all three. He finds the mo

The mind is a thing capable of destroying itself when deep grief sets in, and when left alone to muse over one’s misery, the most irreparable damage can be done. You need people to heal.

The corridor didn't seem long enough to contain so much blackness.'Passing Through Peacehaven

When he shut himself in his apartment he found that he hoped he was waiting for nothing at all.

As soon as Todd drove off the motorway it vanished from the mirror, and so did the sun across the moor.

My original intent was to write a horror story about someone who loses his mind and slowly begins to unravel. The story, as I envisioned it, would evoke horror within the context of psychological decay, entropy.

The city had grown, implacably, spreading its concrete and alloy fingers wider every day over the dark and feral country. Nothing could stop it. Mountains were stamped flat. Rivers were dammed off or drained or put elsewhere. The marshes were filled. The animals shot from the trees and then the trees cut down. And the big gray machines moved forward, gobbling up the jungle with their iron teeth, chewing it clean of its life and all its living things.Until it was no more. Leveled, smoothed as a h

No amount of therapy can replace the joy of revenge writing.

As the helpless vampire watched the transformation, it started screaming. It was still screaming when his rows of razor sharp teeth sank into its throat.

Books like Twilight are not art. They are mass-produced crap that is meant to be consumed by the widest possible audience, for the largest possible profit.

Remember that if I were born of the underworld, you were born of flowers. You are the blood the forest feeds upon, and it is you who gave the woods their dark magic. Time doesn’t exist, and in another world I never left you. I’ve transformed your wounds into a scepter for a queen. The nightcatcher may think that she’s had her victory - but your veins are buried in the map of the earth and she can never have you. She thinks she can own the universe because she’s enslaved gods and eaten stars, but

No one will ever write a horror novel as scary as reading about my symptoms on WebMD.

Some things you cannot see or explain, but they are there, lurking.Some things dwell in the dark: waiting…watching…haunting.Sometimes evil takes on many forms, many faces.And silence is the last thing you hear, when it’s already too late.THE SILENCE

I stumble across the sea of tarmac, finding pavement, concealment and a brick wall. Palms brace against the scrubby surface. My stomach churns and then bubbles over, burning my throat as acrid yellow acid spills from my lips in frothy discomposure. It splatters the pavement like a spray of blood.

Everything is About To Change.

They're Coming.

In The End, Humans Will Become Humans Own Worst Enemy.

My mistake was that I didn't kill you.

The biggest difference between writing a movie and writing a novel? No one ever tries to sleep with me to get into one of my novels.

I tell everyone who asks me about writing...almost everyone has an idea for a book, and some even have a great ending, but it's that 290 or so pages in between that are tough!

If you work in The Dark, you MUST live in The Light.