Glen Duncan quotes: wise famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Glen Duncan

Glen Duncan Famous Quotes & Sayings

Discover top inspirational quotes from Glen Duncan on Wise Famous Quotes.

Nothing apparently, disturbed the mans air of having his mind on something more important than you. You wanted to slap him.

A lovely young girl lies on a bed in the dark listening to a fairy tale," I said. "But she's naked and the storyteller's hands are all over her.

It's why people in sexual extremis say Oh, God. It's not a cry to the Divine, it's a recognition of their own divinity.

I haven't won any prizes or had any best sellers.

... vampire ruler Hin Kahur implemented howler aversion therapy.

He was a blessing in my life. My life was full of blessings. And one curse: That no amount of blessings was ever enough.

For a long time, I'd wanted to write a book that I would be proud and happy and psychologically and morally comfortable about my parents' reading.

Shoved by shock too young into the truth that nothing meant anything.

The seriousness of madmen is one of the most exhausting realities.

There is no God. And that's His only Commandment.

Nicotine and alcohol embraced in my system like long-parted siblings, grateful to me for reuniting them.

Life would be much easier if I just wrote the same book over and over again. But I'm not interested in doing that.

Why do people who read Shakespeare still spend hours watching shitty TV or staring out of the window or arguing about whose dinner party to go to?

Hot tip: If you're a human having a fling with a werewolf, break it off. Now.

It's Big Brother with werewolves. Live coverage for a month, leading up to a group kill on full moon.

Peace is purchased in the currency of loss.

Literature is humanity's broad-minded alter-ego, with room in its heart for monsters, even for you. It's humanity without the judgement.

The only animal from which humans have nothing to learn, in fact, is the sheep. Humans have already learned everything the sheep's got to teach.

You don't believe in the soul until you feel it straining to escape the body.

What would it be like without Him?

It's no surprise to him what any government does, least of all his own.

That's the problem with being alive," she says, staring at the floor. "You've got to keep thinking of what to do.

Hell [ ... ] is the absence of God and the presence of Time.

Expect nothing and you don't need the courage to hope, nor the strength to withstand disappointment when nothing comes.

Show us the world's not the way we thought it was and part of us rejoices.

We have all seen werewolf transformations hundreds of times on screen.

The lies you tell yourself. The necessary lies.

Pain revealed the paltry dimensions of love. The paltry dimensions of everything, in fact, except pain.

You can't live in dread of something for long without beginning to crave it.

There's a distinctive aural quality to lies. This didn't have it.

Home pulls. It draws you back to tell you you don't belong.

The only way to be sure of never losing the ones you love. The Dahmer Method. Extreme, but effective.

I rather wished I'd stabbed him somewhere less awkward.

Just because life's meaningless doesn't mean we can't experience it meaningfully.

He loved the feel and smell of her palm and because he was one of those men who was always ultimately looking to dissolve himself into a woman.

All vampires smoke. Smoking's high on the list of Things You Take Up To Pass The Time.

eyes: so transparently enslaved by the soul

He didn't protest much. Evidently he had a penchant for surrender.

Yo!"
"We good?"
"We're good."
"Okay. You've broken Mr. Marlowe's window, however."
"Apologies, boss. Exuberance.

We're the worst thing because for us the worst thing is the best thing. And it's only the best thing for us if it's the worst thing for someone else.

The Curse has a thing for contrast: frivolity one minute, homicide the next.

Don't kill me - you fucking cunt.
Hot tip. If you're trying to get someone to not kill you, avoid calling him a fucking cunt.

(One knows one's madnesses, by and large. By and large the knowledge is vacuous.

No amount of violence you've done to others prepares you for violence done to yourself.

I'm an American. We're a people diseased with progress.

Coffee justifies the existence of the word 'aroma'.

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.

The moment demanded action and all we had was paralysis.

The world, Lula was thinking, is oozing, teeming, crawling with miracles. And we live in the opaque plastic bubble of television and booze.

Imagination was condemned to make something of things.

Ironies were like secrets: unshared they died.

You save yourself. That's all. You save yourself, or you're damned.

Everyone is obsessed with air fresheners. We associate smell with disgust. But we're all locked into the body; we can't escape it.

You can't live if you can't accept what you are, and you can't accept what you are if you can't say what you do.

Nothing holds love together like shared vice or collusive perversion.

Snow makes cities innocent again, reveals the frailty of the human gesture against the void.

The truth doesn't care what anyone wants. The truth is innocent. You can't blame the truth.

Words betrayed her: beautiful butterflies in her mind; dead moths when she opened her mouth for their release into the world.

You give thanks for small things. I gave thanks that I was wearing jeans, not a skirt. People start trying to kill you, you stop wearing skirts.

The road to Hell, you say, is paved with good intentions. Charming. But actually it's paved with intriguing questions.

The absense of a soul, by the way, makes it easy to inhabit a body. (Therefore, why is Elton John still pudging around unpossessed? I hear you ask?)

There's no such thing as evil for its own sake. All evil is motivated - even mine {Lucifer}.

My parents believe in the happy endings to the stories of their children.

I hated the words. Each one was like a big live insect in my mouth.

The yeehaw explanation is we're too busy chasing meat'n'pussy.

But all the while and all the while and all the while the world.

I'm too conceited for therapy.

Then what happened next happened.

She'd been an actress, an artist's model, once or twice a kept woman, through all a voracious reader.

Embrace determinism and you're chained all the way back to the beginning. Of the universe. Of everything.

I suppose the word "unbearable" is a lie by definition. Unless you kill yourself immediately after using it.

It was depressing how pornography had so emphatically demoted the vagina. The poor old vagina!

I used to believe in signs, omens, patterns, secret purpose, synchronicities.

Nineteenth-century English literature I know; 19th-century sewage systems, not so much.

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.

I don't think things happen for a reason, but I think it's perfectly possible to experience life meaningfully.

Fuck the miracle of life, where do I sign up for a hysterectomy?

Renounce love and you can achieve demonic focus.

Speaking was temporarily beyond him, what with the testicular trauma and ass-stabbing.

When something happened that was everything to you you realized it was nothing to everything else.

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.

Creation sprawls like a dewed and willing maiden outside your window awaiting only the lechery of your senses...

I counted seventy-three shades of grey in an eight-by-ten room.

You have a good cry, lovey, you'll feel better afterwards. You did feel better afterwards, but as if you'd conned yourself, fobbed yourself off.

One day the ordinariness will be terminally punctuated by the extraordinary full stop of death.

I am a man of lost faiths.

She hated the predictability of herself, but knew life probably wouldn't be long enough for her to grow out of it.

Grace only exists to be
fallen from.

There are two ways to write a werewolf novel - you can examine the genre conventions, or you can say, 'What would it be like if I were a werewolf?'

My mother once told me she thought hell would be nothing more than being given a glimpse of God
then having it taken away, forever.

With adolescent egotism and a lot of money one can pretty much rule the world.

But what's heartbreak? A feeling. I've had it with feelings, even if they haven't had it with me.

She revisited sex now as a ruined project she couldn't entirely give up on.

When you're a kid it's people's cruelty that makes you cry, then when you're an adult it's their kindness.

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.

This writing malarkey should come with a health warning: MAY CAUSE INCESSANT DEVIATION FROM ORIGINAL INTENTION, AND DROWSINESS.

Reader, I ate him.

You know why they invented the phrase 'case closed'?
What?
So that the audience would know it wasn't.

Whatever doesn't kill them, makes them make reality TV shows ...

He had a reservoir of tolerance for pain. Finite, though. Pain would empty it, eventually.