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Quote by Robert Aickman

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Compulsory Games

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Robert Aickman
Robert Aickman

Robert Aickman was an English writer known for his supernatural and horror fiction. His works, often set in the English countryside, combined elements of the supernatural with complex human psychology. more

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“To rise, you must fall. To fall, you must rise. You are the light in the darkness. You are the darkness in the light. You are the servant who sits at the right hand of Death. You are Death who sits at the right hand of the servant. Fire and Water. You will meet Death not once but twice as it is written, and you will show It your face. Water and Fire. The kiss of death, the kiss of life. Into the hole, you shall descend to judge the dead. From the hole, you shall ascend to judge the living.”

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“In the quiet corners of existence, we grapple with our perceived insignificance, yet relentlessly chase dreams. But beware, for these very aspirations can blur our vision of reality. Instead of fixating on distant horizons, let us savor the present—our most precious currency. Amid fractured identities and fleeting emotions, find solace in imperfection, and weave meaning from the void.”

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“You will find me in the flicker of dying bulbs, in the rustle of sleepless winds, in the corridor's caged whispers, in the door's slow-blooming creak, in the wail of distant gales, in night's ink-thick hollows, in the silver hush of anklets, in each bead trembling on an orphaned necklace- for even after I am gone, your fear will keep me breathing everywhere light forgets to look.”

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“După cum bine știți, Sire, suntem cu toții oameni încercați, botezați cu foc și plumb. Însă trebuie să vă mărturisesc: ne este frică. Ne este frică de umbrele mișcătoare ce tremură în colțul ochiului și care dispar în momentul în care întoarcem capul spre ele. Ne este frică de foșnetele din noapte ce se sting atunci când sărim din coșmaruri tulburătoare cu armele în mâini, urlând spre Beznă. Fiara ne pândește - din umbră, din ceață - cu colții ascuțiți lucind albi printre negurile ce ne înconjoară tăcute. Uneori, se arată. La mare distanță, și numai pentru o clipă. Ne privește de departe cu ochi de foc, adulmecându-ne spaimele, oboseala, neliniștea, apoi dispare, topindu-se în întunecimile dese. Mă întreb dacă este, într-adevăr, ceea ce căutăm, sau doar un joc de lumini, o imagine incertă născocită de mințile noastre cele atât de tulburate...”

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“Un indian cherokee îşi învăța nepotul despre o bătălie care se dă în fiecare om. El i-a spus tânărului: „Bătălia se dă între doi lupi. Unul este leneş, laş, înfumurat, arogant şi plin de autocompătimire, tristețe, regret, invidie şi mânie. Celălalt lup este harnic, curajos, smerit, binevoitor şi plin de compasiune, bucurie, empatie şi credință.” Apoi s-a făcut tăcere. Nepotul s-a gândit puțin la lupi, iar apoi şi-a întrebat bunicul: „Care dintre cei doi lupi învinge?” Bătrânul indian cherokee a răspuns: „Cel pe care îl hrăneşti.”

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“If this is a shortcut," I said, "then we will be bypassing a great deal of Where the Trees Have Eyes." "Hum!" Snowbell said. "I suppose so. The Weeping Mines, for one--- terrible waterfalls where the high ones harvest their silver. The Gap of Wick, which a nasty boggart has claimed for his own. Also the darkest part of the forest, the lands of the hag-headed deer, which they call the Poetry. And many other perils besides." He said it in his usual bragging tones, assuming that I would be nothing but grateful. And I was, I suppose, but another part of me wept at the thought of finding my way to the Silva Lupi, a place of scholarly legend, so magnificently fascinating and terrible, and then hurrying through like a busy shopper at a market.”

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