Inspirational quotes by Glen Duncan.
The question 'What was there before creation?' is meaningless. Time is a property of creation, therefore before creation there was no before creation.
You can't live in dread of something for long without beginning to crave it.
Extraordinary what the body remembers. The bones loded with love, grief silting the arteries, fear the bowels' recurring mould. Who would have thought mere flesh and blood could hold so much of psyche's ghostly script?
It’s why we close the eyes, too. The dead shouldn’t have to look on the lewd aliveness of the living.
Don't bother looking for the meaning of it all. There isn't one.Maybe not, but life compulsively dangled the possibility. Life, the dramatist on speed. Life, that couldn't stop with its foreshadows and ironies and symbols and clues, its wretched jokes and false endings and twists. Life with its hopeless addiction to plot.
Literature is humanity's broad-minded alter-ego, with room in its heart for monsters, even for you. It's humanity without the judgement.
How was the light today?”“Big. Hot. Yellow-white. The sky’s blue was like a drumbeat. I watched the black tree shadows revolve. When the sun went down it was like someone’s hand was pulling it, very gently. It was soft-edged and orange. The land went purple, then dark blue and grey, then black. Then you opened your eyes.
I didn't cry. Real things don't make me cry. Only false or sentimental things can do that. In this respect I'm like most civilised humans.
You love life because life's all there is.
Life's generally artless, but it does get these occasional hard-ons for plot. It connects things, nefariously, behind yor back, and before you know it you're in a final act of a lousy movie. A lousy horror-movine, usually...
Nothing is the whole story. The self’s curse – and the writer’s.
We go to the past to lay the blame - since the past can't argue. We go to our past selves to account for our present miseries.
You think horror enters spectacularly. It doesn't. It just prosaically turns up. Even in the first seconds you know you'll find it a room.
The first horror is there's horror. The second is you accommodate it.
Humans are moving into a new phase, one based on the knowledge that talking about their feelings has never got them anywhere.
The lies you tell yourself. The necessary lies.
It wasn't love at first sight. They ran into each other one morning in a sunny clearing in the forest. A few moments of stunned silence. `Glockenspiel,' Adam pronounced, thinking (but with terrible doubt) he'd found another animal in search of a name. When Eve approached him, proffering a handful of elderberries, he threw a stick at her and ran away.
By all means, become an abomination--but only while unhinged by grief or wrath.
All motivation derives from the primary fact of mortality. Take mortality away and motivation loses its...motivation.
All vampires smoke. Smoking’s high on the list of Things You Take Up To Pass The Time.
It’s Big Brother with werewolves. Live coverage for a month, leading up to a group kill on full moon.
... vampire ruler Hin Kahur implemented howler aversion therapy.
There’s a reason humans peg-out around eighty: prose fatigue. It looks like organ failure or cancer or stroke but it’s really just the inability to carry on clambering through the assault course of mundane cause and effect. If we ask Sheila then we can’t ask Ron. If I have the kippers now then it’s quiche for tea. Four score years is about all the ifs and thens you can take. Dementia’s the sane realisation you just can’t be doing with all that anymore.
Where ever there's guilt there's violence, and if guilt is a smell then violence is a taste: strawberries and formaldehyde and ironish blood.
I read somewhere that when you're a kid it's people's cruelty that makes you cry, then when you're an adult it's their kindness.
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