Robert Bloch Quotes

The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.

We're all not quite as sane as we pretend to be.

A foolish man tells a woman to stop talking, but a wise man tells her that her mouth is extremely beautiful when her lips are closed.

Horror is the removal of masks.

Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.

Sure God created man before woman, but then again you always make a rough draft before creating the final masterpiece.

Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.

So I had this problem -- work or starve. So I thought I'd combine the two and decided to become a writer.

I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.

So much for modern science and its wonderful discoveries that just about everything can kill you. Life is only a bedtime story before a long, long sleep.

People hear that I am a horror writer and they think that I must be a monster, but actually I have the heart of a small child - I keep it in a jar on my desk.

I always carry a pistol when I go [to the New York Public Library]. Never did trust those stone lions.

Mothers sometimes are overly possessive, but not all children allow themselves to be possessed.

I have the heart of a child. I keep it in a jar on my shelf.

Funny how we take it for granted that we know all there is to know about another person, just because we see them frequently or because of some strong emotional tie.

Everything in this business makes sense, because it serves a real purpose, fills a need that's a part of living. Even a single nail, like this one, fulfills a function. Drive it into a crucial place and you can depend on it to do a job, keep on doing it for a hundred years to come. Long after we're dead and gone, both of us.

Magic--that's just a label, you know. Completely meaningless. It wasn't so very long ago that people were saying that electricity was magic.

I haven't had this much fun since the rats ate my baby sister

Then she did see it there - just a face, peering through the curtains, hanging in midair like a mask. A head-scarf concealed the hair and the glassy eyes stared inhumanly, but it wasn’t a mask, it couldn’t be. The skin had been powdered dead-white and two hectic spots of rouge centered on the cheekbones. It wasn’t a mask. It was the face of a crazy old woman. Mary started to scream, and then the curtains parted further and a hand appeared, holding a butcher’s knife. It was the knife that, a moment later, cut off her scream. And her head.

Henderson sighed. There was a time, he reflected, when the coming of this night meant something. A dark Europe, groaning in superstitious fear, dedicated this Eve to the grinning Unknown. A million doors had once been barred against the evil visitants, a million prayers mumbled, a million candles lit. There was something majestic about the idea, Henderson reflected.

That's the way girls were--they always laughed. Because they were bitches.

Norman Bates heard the noise and a shock went through him.