I don’t want to act in horror movies and try my best to avoid that. I believe people thought about what I do in the field of acting.

It’s impossible being me, I radiate a glow that makes others turn and grimace in horror as if staring into the sun

Even if you’re doing something that the studio sends you, or something that’s based on a book or story, at the end of it all, you try to make whatever it is your own. This is based on my love of horror movies. Everything is based on something, in some way.

The great thing about visual horror films is there’s real potential for strong, beautiful imagery. It’s the one genre that really lends itself to creating strong images. And I’ve always loved that idea of windmills – your mind aimlessly spinning.

At the core of hostility to Semitism lies Moses. He made a disastrous blunder, a horrible mix-up, and all enemies of Semitism for a long time originated from his misjudgment. Moses said we Jews could stay a people without having a land. He said we needn’t bother with an area to clutch our Jewish character. This was a disaster

There now ensued a series of incidents which transported me to the opposite extremes of ecstasy and horror; incidents which I tremble to recall and dare not seek to interpret.

The one test of the really weird (story) is simply this–whether or not there be excited in the reader a profound sense of dread, and of contact with unknown spheres and powers; a subtle attitude of awed listening, as if for the beating of black wings or the scratching of outside shapes and entities on the known universe’s utmost rim.

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!

It was just a colour out of space—a frightful messenger from unformed realms of infinity beyond all Nature as we know it; from realms whose mere existence stuns the brain and numbs us with the black extra-cosmic gulfs it throws open before our frenzied eyes.

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

When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live.

A serious adult story must be true to something in life. Since marvel tales cannot be true to the events of life, they must shift their emphasis towards something to which they can be true; namely, certain wistful or restless moods of the human spirit, wherein it seeks to weave gossamer ladders of escape from the galling tyranny of time, space, and natural law.

The basis of all true cosmic horror is violation of the order of nature, and the profoundest violations are always the least concrete and describable.

I have looked upon all the universe has to hold of horror,and even the skies of spring and flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me.

Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places.

I am so beastly tired of mankind and the world that nothing can interest me unless it contains a couple of murders on each page or deals with the horrors unnameable and unaccountable that leer down from the external universes.

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.

Science, already oppressive with its shocking revelations, will perhaps be the ultimate exterminator of our human species – if separate species we be – for its reserve of unguessed horrors could never be borne by mortal brains if loossed upon the world.

It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably with darkness, silence, and solitude.

Horrors, I believe, should be original – the use of common myths and legends being a weakening influence.

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.

There are horrors beyond life’s edge that we do not suspect, and once in a while man’s evil prying calls them just within our range.

Horror and the unknown or the strange are always closely connected so that it is hard to create a convincing picture of shattered natural law or cosmic alienage or ‘outsideness’ without laying stress on the emotion of fear.

It is a mistake to fancy that horror is associated inextricably with darkness, silence, and solitude.

Ultimate horror often paralyses memory in a merciful way.

I have seen the dark universe yawning Where the black planets roll without aim, Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge, or lustre, or name.

No new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace.

From even the greatest of horrors irony is seldom absent.

I have a perfect horror of words that are not backed up by deeds.

When you look fear in the face, you are able to say to yourself, ‘I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.