Jim Butcher Quotes

Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me.

Night was a very different matter. It was dense, thicker than the very walls, and it was empty, so black, so immense that within it you could brush against appalling things and feel roaming and prowling around a strange, mysterious horror.

Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.

It feels really sad, to me, to go to a dark bedroom. It's like surrendering to the night or something.

I am profoundly fascinated by cruelty, fear, horror and death. My films show my preoccupation with violence, the pathology of violence.

The streets were dark with something more than night.

I don't find slashing and blood flying everywhere to be scary. I just find it repulsive.

We are readying ourselves to enter a long tunnel full of blood and darkness.

Monsters are evangelical creatures for me.

Nothing's scarier than wrestling The Boogeyman.

This city belongs to ghosts, to murderers, to sleepwalkers. Where are you, in what bed, in what dream?

Is it eradicating evil? Or are we like children, left alone in the house at night, who light candle after candle to keep away the darkness. We don't see that the darkness has a purpose — though we may not understand it — and so, in our terror, we end up burning down the house!

Night wasn't so much falling as sharpening its claws.

If I'd known how wrong I was - if I'd had any idea of the awful night that lay ahead - I'd have run after him and never returned to that disgusting circus of blood, that revolting circus of death.

I was a coward. I used to be haunted by the fear of thieves, ghosts and serpents. I did not dare to stir out of doors at night. Darkness was a terror to me. It was almost impossible for me to sleep in the dark, as I would imagine ghosts coming from one direction, thieves from another and serpents from a third. I could not therefore bear to sleep without a light in the room.

They held each other and wept as the night closed its fist around their tiny shelter, and the world below them seethed with killers both living and dead.

His blood is black and boiling hot, he gurgles ghastly groans. He'll cook you in his dinner pot, your skin, your flesh, your bones.

The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.

For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.

Creatures crawl in search of blood to terrorize your neighborhood. And whosoever shall be found without the soul for getting down, must stand and face the hounds of hell, and rot inside a corpse's shell.

The night has a capacity for terror that the day can never match.

I am the shadow on the moon at night/Filling your dreams to the brim with fright.

For the night is dark and full of terrors.

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!