“Roll. Tap. Tap. Tap”

— Andrew Smith, Share via Whatsapp

“One sometimes kills for the love of it.”

— Cornell Woolrich, Black Alibi, Share via Whatsapp

“Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.”

— Edgar Allan Poe, Share via Whatsapp

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

— Stephen King, The Gunslinger, Share via Whatsapp

“We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.”

— Stephen King, Share via Whatsapp

“I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, Share via Whatsapp

“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.”

— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, Share via Whatsapp

“Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.”

— Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, or the Evening Redness in the West, Share via Whatsapp

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.”

— Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House, Share via Whatsapp

“Give me just enough information so that I can lie convincingly.”

— Stephen King, Share via Whatsapp

“I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.”

— H.P. Lovecraft, The Outsider, Share via Whatsapp

“A number of years ago, when I was a freshly-appointed instructor, I met, for the first time, a certain eminent historian of science. At the time I could only regard him with tolerant condescension. I was sorry of the man who, it seemed to me, was forced to hover about the edges of science. He was compelled to shiver endlessly in the outskirts, getting only feeble warmth from the distant sun of science- in-progress; while I, just beginning my research, was bathed in the heady liquid heat up at the very center of the glow. In a lifetime of being wrong at many a point, I was never more wrong. It was I, not he, who was wandering in the periphery. It was he, not I, who lived in the blaze. I had fallen victim to the fallacy of the growing edge; the belief that only the very frontier of scientific advance counted; that everything that had been left behind by that advance was faded and dead. But is that true? Because a tree in spring buds and comes greenly into leaf, are those leaves therefore the tree? If the newborn twigs and their leaves were all that existed, they would form a vague halo of green suspended in mid-air, but surely that is not the tree. The leaves, by themselves, are no more than trivial fluttering decoration. It is the trunk and limbs that give the tree its grandeur and the leaves themselves their meaning. There is not a discovery in science, however revolutionary, however sparkling with insight, that does not arise out of what went before. If I have seen further than other men, said Isaac Newton, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.”

— Isaac Asimov, Adding a Dimension: Seventeen Essays on the History of Science, Share via Whatsapp

“Wendy? Darling? Light, of my life. I m not gonna hurt ya. I m just going to bash your brains in.”

— Stephen King, The Shining, Share via Whatsapp

“I do not love men: I love what devours them.”

— André Gide, Prometheus Illbound, Share via Whatsapp

“Though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil, for I am the evilest motherfucker in the valley”

— Alex Garland, Share via Whatsapp

“The Devil pulls the strings which make us dance; We find delight in the most loathsome things; Some furtherance of Hell each new day brings, And yet we feel no horror in that rank advance.”

— Charles Baudelaire, Share via Whatsapp

“Blood is really warm, it s like drinking hot chocolate but with more screaming.”

— Ryan Mecum, Zombie Haiku: Good Poetry for Your...Brains, Share via Whatsapp