Welcome to the worst nightmare of all, reality!
Clive BarkerThere was little comfort, this voice inside him said, in discovering a mystery at the wellspring of his life so banal his unremarkable mind could readily fathom it. Better, perhaps, to die in doubt, knowing there was some revelation still unfound, than to pursue and possess such a wretched certainty.
Clive BarkerAlways, worlds within worlds.
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And to think, she'd once had the hots for him, back in the old days (six months ago) when razor-thin men with noses like Durante and an encyclopaedic knowledge of de Niro movies had really been her style. Now she saw him for what he was, flotsam from a lost ship of hope. Still a pill-freak, still a theoretical bisexual, still devoted to early Polanski movies and symbolic pacifism.
Clive BarkerBehind stone, with stone, carrying stone
Clive BarkerIn moments they would be here — the ones Kircher had called the Cenobites, theologians of the Order of the Gash. Summoned from their experiments in the higher reaches of pleasure, to bring their ageless heads into a world of rain and failure.
Clive BarkerTo dream in isolation can be properly splendid to be sure; but to dream in company seems to me infinitely preferable.
Clive BarkerYou’ve always got me”
“Always?”
“Didn’t I just say so?”
“Yes”
“Am I liar? “
“No.” I lied.
Angels have very nasty tempers. Especially when they’re feeling righteous.
Clive BarkerMots clés angels righteousness temper
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.
Mots clés insightful
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