27 Great Quotes By Robert Bloch That Will Open The Fiction World For You
Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.
The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.
I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.
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.
Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.
Horror is the removal of masks.
So I had this problem -- work or starve. So I thought I'd combine the two and decided to become a writer.
That's the way girls were--they always laughed. Because they were bitches.
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.
We're all not quite as sane as we pretend to be.
We all go a little mad sometimes.
I haven't had this much fun since the rats ate my baby sister
Mothers sometimes are overly possessive, but not all children allow themselves to be possessed.
I always carry a pistol when I go [to the New York Public Library]. Never did trust those stone lions.
Forget the past, let the dead bury the dead. Things were working out fine, and that was the only thing he had to remember.
Norman Bates heard the noise and a shock went through him.
Norman Bates will never die...
There's nothing to this telepathy business. It's all in the mind.
A boy’s best friend is his mother.
The room was plainly but adequately furnished; she noted the shower stall in the bathroom beyond. Actually, she would have preferred a tub, but this would do.
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.
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.
The light shone down on his plump face, reflected from his rimless glasses, bathed the pinkness of his scalp beneath the thinning sandy hair as he bent his head to resume reading.
Mother would be in real trouble right now.
And then, as he ripped back the shower curtains and stared down at the hacked and twisted thing sprawled on the floor of the stall, he realized that Mother had used her keys.
Norman stirred, turned, and then fell into a darkness deeper and more engulfing than the swamp.
Sam, what do you think happened?