Strange stories Quotes
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“I went back every evening, after work, for nearly a year. I learned the meaning of the cud of a leaf and the glisten of wet pebbles, and the special significance of curves and angles. A great deal of the writing was unwritten. Plot three dots on a graph and join them; you now have a curve with certain characteristics. Extend that curve while maintaining the characteristics, and it has meaning, up where no dots were plotted.In just this way I learned to extend the curve of a grass-blade and of a protruding root, of the bent edges of wetness on a drying headstone. I quit smoking so I could sharpen my sense of smell, because the scent of earth after a rain has a clarifying effect on graveyard reading, as if the page were made whiter and the ink darker. I began to listen to the wind, and to the voices of birds and small animals, insects and people; because to the educated ear, every sound is filtered through the story written on graves, and becomes a part of it.("The Graveyard Reader")”
Theodore Sturgeon
“We are most of us two people, your Highness. There is something lacking in the man who is one thing only, and so, as he believes, at peace with the world and with himself.”
Robert Aickman, Cold Hand in Mine: Strange Stories“Dogs and children vomit in distress. Women cry.("Dial 'O' For Operator")”
Robert Presslie, Weird Shadows From Beyond: An Anthology Of Strange Stories“Living things aren't finished, you see. Everything they have ever been in contact with, each thought they have had, each person they have known - these things are still at work in them; nothing's finished.("The Graveyard Reader")”
Theodore Sturgeon, Weird Shadows From Beyond: An Anthology Of Strange Stories“Mam said I was growing up. I felt that I was dying.”
Delia Sherman, Steampunk! An Anthology of Fantastically Rich and Strange Stories“The road was wet with rain, black and shiny like oilskin. The reflection of the street lamps wallowed like yellow jelly-fish. A bus was approaching - a bus to Piccadilly, a bus to the never-never land - a bus to death or glory.I found neither. I found something which haunts me still.The great bus swayed as it sped. The black street gleamed. Through the window a hundred faces fluttered by as though the leaves of a dark book were being flicked over. And I sat there, with a sixpenny ticket in my hand. What was I doing! Where was I going?("Same Time, Same Place")”
Mervyn Peake, Weird Shadows From Beyond: An Anthology Of Strange StoriesAll in One Creative & Marketing Platform to tell stories at scale
