Quote

I’ll tell you now. That silence almost beat me. It’s the silence that scares me. It’s the blank page on which I can write my own fears. The spirits of the dead have nothing on it. The dead one tried to show me hell, but it was a pale imitation of the horror I can paint on the darkness in a quiet moment.

Mark Lawrence

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Mark Lawrence
Age: 58
Born: 1966
Born: January 28
Author
Novelist
the United States of America
Writing
Moment
Tried
Scare
Fear
Quiet
Fears
Write
Darkness
Page
Tell
Silence
Beat
Scares
Spirit
Dead
Beats
Imitation
Moments
Hell
Horror
Spirits
Shows
Almost
Paint
Pale
Nothing
Show
Pages
Blank

More quotes by Mark Lawrence

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When you take a woman away from her man, what you get is a woman who can be taken away from her man.
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You soon learn there’s no elegance or dignity in death if you spend time in the castle kitchens. You learn how ugly it is, and how good it tastes.
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Sometime, It's easier to love someone with flaws you can forgive in return for them forgiving yours.
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Each day the memories weigh a little heavier. Each day they drag you down that bit further. You wind them around you, a single thread at a time, and you weave your own shroud, you build a cocoon, and in it madness grows.
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No half measures. Some things can’t be cut in half. You can’t half-love someone. You can’t half-betray, or half-lie.
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All lives are tales. Some spread, and grow in the telling. Others are just told between us and the gods, muttered back and forth behind our days, but those tales grow too and shake us just as fierce.
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For the longest time I studied revenge to the exclusion of all else. I built my first torture chamber in the dark vaults of imagination. Lying on bloody sheets in the Healing Hall I discovered doors within my mind that I'd not found before, doors that even a child of nine knows should not be opened. Doors that never close again. I threw them wide.
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Some truths should perhaps be left unsaid. Some doors unopened. An angel once told me to let go of the ills I held too close, to let go of the flaws that shaped me.
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I think maybe we die every day. Maybe we're born new each dawn, a little changed, a little further on our own road. When enough days stand between you and the person you were, you're strangers. Maybe that's what growing up is. Maybe I have grown up.
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I've always felt that the placement of a man's testicles is an eloquent argument against intelligent design.
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Questions for questions. You're a man who's spent time at court.
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In the end it seems we're just toys,easy to break and hard to mend
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She'll never love you better than she loves her own children.
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Do you know why the leaves change colour?... Before a tree sheds a leaf it pumps it full of all the poison it can't rid itself of otherwise. That red there--that's a man's skin blotching with burst veins after an assassin spikes his last meal with roto-weed. The poison spreading through him before he dies.
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Anything that you cannot sacrifice pins you. Makes you predictable, makes you weak.
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Four years and everything was the same, except me.
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It was a defeat, resorting to crude threats in a game of subtlety, but sometimes one must sacrifice a battle to win the war.
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There's a road to hell that is paved with good intentions but it's a long route. The quicker path is paved with the kind of ignorance that clever men who just don't want to know are best at.
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It is purity of spirit that will keep corruption from the flesh
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We can't be trapped by fear. Lives lived within such walls are just slower deaths.
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