Carla H. Krueger Quotes - Page 4

As Baumauer hangs his shit-coloured coat up on a hook he takes clandestine pleasure in engulfing Obelmäker’s less impressive attire with his own. Privately, he warns the inferior coat, “Don’t suffocate in there.

Baumauer secretly fears Kalist – and Kalist knows it.

Pissec approaches Pamela Geiger’s cubicle, itching in rhythm with her. He wants to ask her a question while Kalist is out of earshot. She’s not a grass, he’s sure, but stupid people die first.

The fear of silence is a fear everyone should overcome.

All the best writers take risks, offend people often and say fuck you to the critics.

The drive was strangely calm. Deathly calm. Dark, light …. dark, light …. dark again as we glided under repeat street lighting. Four men sitting silently in four leather seats. Could hear the creaks. The smallest sounds are the most terrifying.

My spine spoke to me; I felt vulnerable, like he was gradually covering me in a heavy layer of gold without even having to touch me.

I hate going back. I’d rather live at the bottom of my river of black, dragged this way and that by the forces that be, than go back there. Those forty-eight hours took twenty years to drown.

A silence absorbed them both – a lack of sound so potent it blackened the place with something richer than hate.

So much of what we read nowadays is there one moment and gone the next. When you read something good, cherish it.

I have a very addictive personality. If it isn’t women, it’s money. If it isn’t money, it’s speeding. And if it isn’t speeding, it’s women. I also like expensive video consoles where I can punch, kick, screw, shoot and drive legally all night anywhere I fucking well want to.

Two hours later and I had to fork out for her taxi home. Bitch didn’t even give me her number. I wasn’t properly pissed because I’d controlled my urge to drink heavily so I could bone her good and proper when the time came. Fucking joke. No wonder some men take what’s never given.

Reality was dawning on him and he hated reality. If you were him, so would you.

No matter what the good boys tell you, criminality is not a level playing field.

I suffered my own battles. I suffer still.

It was all death.

Blank walls are a shared canvas and we're all artists.

Katie began to draw in the secrecy of her room, in anger at first, using her mother’s pencils and whatever paper she could find. Sometimes, she had to steal from Nader’s study to replenish her supplies, but it was worth it. She was nothing but a scribbler to begin with – scrawled lines, misshapen monsters – but slowly, she found a style.

Please, never tell me what 'horror erotica' is. Real #art is being lost in a bizarre swamp of over-processed, sexually exploitative garbage.

Today’s controversy is tomorrow’s sea change.