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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
Artist
Author
Designer
Film Director
Film Producer
Illustrator
Novelist
Painter
Playwright
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
City of Liverpool
Faces
Walk
Archie
Death
Walks
Footprints
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Feet
Footprint
Like
Name
Chest
Somebody
Chests
Knew
Wake
Names
Finally
Face
Killing

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Never believe your eyes
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Well, it was most likely too late there would not be time for me to flagellate myself for every dishonorable deed in that list, nor any chance to make good the harms I’d done. Minor harms, to be sure, in the scheme of things but large enough to regret.
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Nothing ever begins. There is no first moment no single word or place from which this or any other story springs.
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I've learned two things in my life. One that love is the beginning and end of all meaning. And two that it is the same thing whatever shape our souls have taken on this journey. Love is love. Is love.
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With the inevitability of a tongue returning to probe a painful tooth, we come back and back and back again to our fears, sitting to talk them over with the eagerness of a hungry man before a full and steaming plate.
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There are lives lived for love, and lives lived for art. We, happy band, have chosen the later persuasion.
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I was cured in my new infamy of all the tired wisdom of age. I would never weary into that tired state again - -I swore to myself, I would always be this raw, wet child hereafter.
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A man kills the thing he loves, and he must die a little himself.
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Always, worlds within worlds.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Everybody is a book of blood wherever we're opened, we're red.
Clive Barker
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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..?
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Have patience the lovers will suffer lovers always suffer.
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Sooner or later even the most ambitious glutton must crawl away and seek the solace of the vomitorium.
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One man's pornography is another man's theology.
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I'm a poet,' the young man said, 'And it's my job to remember the sadness of things.
Clive Barker
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My life is in the art that I make, and I'm very happy with it.
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I have the normal complement of anxieties, neuroses, psychoses and whatever else - but I'm absolutely nothing special.
Clive Barker