Alan Moore Quotes

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

It's sad that the most glorious of sexual experiences can make us feel guilty, ashamed, embarrassed, and abnormal.

Abysmal vermin that I am, I couldn't of course tell her that it was her incredible mother that I wanted to see again… I knew only as I drove through the cold, night autumn air that somewhere Freud, Sophocles and Eugene O’Neill were laughing.

It's a shame I have to hurt people. I'm a nice guy.

You know, I suffer kind of from survivor's guilt. It's like you suffer from success because you feel like - why me? Why am I so special? What makes me so different from the next man and why am I able to achieve these things that this person can't? Prayer is the only thing that helps me get through it.

If we try to deny the darkness in our souls then we'll become completely dark.

He only wished to fight and cultivate an anger toward me, thus alleviating his guilt, but I would not abet him in this.

September did not want to feel for the Marquess. That’s how villains get you, she knew. You feel badly for them, and next thing you know, you’re tied to train tracks. But her wild, untried heart opened up another bloom inside her, a dark branch heavy with fruit.

And all that weirdness isn't just going on outside. It's in you too, right now, growing in the dark like magic mushrooms. Call it the Thing in the Cellar. Call it the Blow Lunch Factor. Call it the Loony Tunes File. I think of it as my private dinosaur, huge, slimy, and mindless, stumbling around in the stinking swamp of my subconscious, never finding a tar pit big enough to hold it.

Desire, despair, desire. So many monsters.

I sometimes feel that I'm impersonating the dark unconscious of the whole human race. I know this sounds sick, but I love it.

Guilt agonizes over trifles, ignores habitual wrongdoing.

Truth is, I'm a good Catholic girl. The faith has always been elusive, but the guilt is intractable.

How can I be so evil? It ain't easy.

You know you're in trouble when your own imagination starts punishing you.

Maybe we all have a dark place inside of us, a place where dark thoughts and darker dreams live, but it doesn't have to become who we are.

So now the devil's in my soul.

An artist has an obligation to tell the truth. [...] that the true horrors of human history derive not from orcs and Dark Lords, but from ourselves. We are the monsters. (And the heroes too). Each of us has within himself the capacity for great good, and great evil.

His parting shot to me had been, "I don't want to love someone who is more at home with the monsters than I am." What do you say to that? What can you say? Damned if I know. They say love conquers everything. They lie.

I was brought up as a Catholic. I've got A-level guilt.

I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death.

A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.

But...books are so much more. Some of them are webs; you can feel your way along their threads, but just barely, into strange and dark corners. Some of them are balloons bobbing up through the sky: totally self-contained, and unreachable, but beautiful to watch. And some of them―the best ones―are doors.

When I think I've made an error, it can cause me a sleepless night. But that only happens rarely.

Anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt.