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Quote by Michael Marshall Smith

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Michael Marshall Smith
Michael Marshall Smith

Michael Marshall Smith, born on May 3, 1965, is a renowned British novelist. His works are known for their suspense, science fiction, and fantasy elements, which have won him a dedicated following. more

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“great literature is literature that speaks to deep, fundamental human truths and experience in a way that is relatable to the reader and that may provoke engagement or facilitate insight into these truths and experiences. If these truths and experiences are about breaches of the normal, then surely horror has a place in literature, and in facts may proffer deep engagement with the most profound aspects of our existence. Sometimes only horror can say what needs to be said.”

LifeWritingPhilosophyLiteratureFictionHorrorNonfictionStephen KingKingRepresentativeHorror Writing
Book:Stephen King and Philosophy
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“No. No… No!’ the fear ebbed my voice, cut through me like a knife. I ran, bare feet slipping and sliding over the floorboards. I turned the corner and headed for the backdoor. Run. Run. I must run. As soon as I reached the backdoor in the kitchen, pulling the barn door from the hinges, I felt his gaze upon me. Cinders and kindling crunched at my feet; what had once been my lovely mahogany kitchen furniture was now little more than firewood. My crockery and china splintered in shards and as I turned to face him, I felt them dig into my skin, cut me with every shiver that bolted through my frame. ‘You wanted Hemlock House. You have, Hemlock House.’ His voice was dark, cruel and yet hauntingly light. As if cooing, whispering to a newborn. He was lounging against the countertop as if waiting for breakfast, as if waiting for something so meaningless.”

DarkHorrorDepressionScaryFrightenedDemonsDark FantasyDisturbedHorror FictionShort StoriesRunHauntedHorror AuthorExcerptHorror WritingHorror Short StoryHemlock House
Book:Skeletons in The Closet [A Horror Collection]
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“Usually, Shakespeare gives me goose bumps. The guy knows everything. Like some ancient angel quill-ing out blueprints life. Hiding it in fiction. And usually I love the sound of the words, the way they dance on the page. Today, they fall flat. My attention bobbing in the cosmos. All free brain-space is marinating in gap month fizz. I chew my pen, candy-cane style. The million possibilities ahead make it hard to care about right now. I write my answers slowly, each letter carved in stone not ballpoint. I’m going to explore the world, find my passion, try everything! The fizz shoots up my spine and a smile sprouts.”

InspirationPossibilitiesShakespeareFizz
Book:The Jelly Bean Crisis
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