But sometimes a person begins with opinions and judgments and valid criticisms, but then things creep in that have nothing to do with forming opinions, and then it’s all over with strict logic, and what you end up with is an absurd world republic and beautiful style.

No matter how piercing and appalling his insights, the desolation
creeping over his outer world, the lurid lights and shadows of his inner
world, the writer must live with hope, work in faith.

If I weren’t in Radiohead I’d be working at a grocery store, I’d be that creepy guy who lives in an efficiency apartment and collects salted, cured meats

I’m a creep. I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here

I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo

Most people say about graveyards: “Oh, it’s just a bunch of dead people. It’s creepy.” But for me, there’s an energy to it that it not creepy, or dark. It has a positive sense to it.

I have moments of darkness, of anger, and moments of rage. They do creep up at the most inopportune times. Not to recognize that in my music would give people a sense of sainthood that I don’t necessarily have or even want to have.

The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!

Something was creeping and creeping and waiting to be seen and felt and heard.

I shall never sleep calmly again when I think of the horrors that lurk ceaselessly behind life in time and in space, and of those unhallowed blasphemies from elder stars which dream beneath the sea, known and favoured by a nightmare cult ready and eager to loose them upon the world whenever another earthquake shall heave their monstrous stone city again to the sun and air.

There are black zones of shadow close to our daily paths, and now and then some evil soul breaks a passage through. When that happens, the man who knows must strike before reckoning the consequences.

Through all this horror my cat stalked unperturbed. Once I saw him monstrously perched atop a mountain of bones, and wondered at the secrets that might lie behind his yellow eyes.

I have seen beyond the bounds of infinity and drawn down daemons from the stars….I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness.

Ambition can creep as well as soar.

If each dead person became a ghost, there’d be more than 100 billion of them haunting us all. Creepy, but cool.