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My feet are killing me. I knew somebody who had feet like that. They'd walk all over him. Archie Kashanian was his name. He used to wake up with footprints all over his chest, all over his face. It was the death of him, finally.

Clive Barker

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Clive Barker
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: October 5
Actor
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Film Director
Film Producer
Illustrator
Novelist
Painter
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Science Fiction Writer
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City of Liverpool
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I've dealt with a lot of producers who were pricks and I'm determined not to be that.
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Darkness always had its part to play. Without it, how would we know when we walked in the light? It’s only when its ambitions become too grandiose that it must be opposed, disciplined, sometimes—if necessary—brought down for a time. Then it will rise again, as it must.
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I firmly believe that a story is only as good as the villain.
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Have patience the lovers will suffer lovers always suffer.
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Horror fiction shows us that the control we believe we have is purely illusory, and that every moment we teeter on chaos and oblivion.
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She was a sea: and I had to swim in her.
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For a writer, and particularly a writer of my genre, which is the fantastical, I think that it's to my advantage to feel remote from and disconnected from the world of deal making.
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..She had that brand of pragmatism that would find her the first brewing tea after Armageddon.
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Writing about the unholy is one way of writing about what is sacred.
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Funny that. We live in islands of Hours and we never seem to have time enough for anything.
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A man kills the thing he loves, and he must die a little himself.
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I don't take accusations of selling out lightly.
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Give me B movies or give me death!
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How many human eyes...had snatched glimpses of their secret anatomies, down the passage of years?
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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.
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Everybody is a book of blood wherever we're opened, we're red.
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What I tried to do is deliver movies that have worked for me more than once.
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I can see in your eyes that there’s no seam of untapped joy left in you. The best of life has come and gone. Those days when sudden epiphanies swept over you, and you had visions of the rightness of all things and of your place amongst them they’re history. You’re in a darker place now.
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Mischief nodded. 'It's true,' he conceded. 'You're in the company of eight world-class thieves,' he said, not without a little touch of pride. 'Saints we are not.' But then,' said Deaux-Deaux, 'who is?' he thought on this. 'Besides saints.
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