Windows are the eyes of the soulless

The finest people, as people go, cannot help but betray a fair portion of fear and insecurity, even full-blown panic.

Everything is ultimately peculiar and ultimately ridiculous.

To my mind, a well-developed sense of humor is the surest indication of a person's humanity, no matter how black and bitter that humor may be.

This, then, is the ultimate, that is only, consolation: simply that someone shares some of your own feelings and has made of these a work of art which you have the insight, sensitivity, and — like it or not — peculiar set of experiences to appreciate. Amazing thing to say, the consolation of horror in art is that it actually intensifies our panic, loudens it on the sounding-board of our horror-hollowed hearts, turns terror up full blast, all the while reaching for that perfect and deafening amplitude at which we may dance to the bizarre music of our own misery.

I wanted to do things to Richard that would make the sun grow cold with horror.

The only value of this world lay in its power - at certain times - to suggest another world.