Richard Matheson Quotes

Full circle. A new terror born in death, a new superstition entering the unassailable fortress of forever. I am legend.

What dreams you white-frocked kiddies have in the sanctified cloister of your laboratories. You can make yourself believe anything after a while. As long as you can make up a measurement for it.

It was a high ceilinged room with tall, large-panes windows. Apart from the doorway was the desk where book had been checked out in days when books were still being checked out. He stood there for a moment looking around the silent room, shaking his head slowly. All these books, he thought, the residue of a planet's intellect, the scrapings of futile minds, the leftovers, the potpourri of artifacts that had no power to save men from perishing.

For everything in life, there’s a counterpart in afterlife. This includes the most beautiful as well as the ugliest of phenomena.

His teeth are those of a carnivore. When he bares them in a smile, it gives one the impression of an animal snarling. His face is white, for he despises the sun, eschews the out-of-doors. He has astonishingly green eyes, which seem to possess an inner light of their own. His forehead is broad, his hair and short-trimmed beard jet black. Despite his handsomeness, his is a frightening visage, the face of some demon who has taken on a human aspect

What did it matter what he did? Life would be equally purposeless no matter what his decision was.

No sabía cuánto tiempo había pasado allí. Al fin, pensó, aun el dolor más profundo se aplaca, la desesperación más intensa se desvanece. La maldición del verdugo: la víctima se acostumbra al látigo.

You bastard, he thought, almost affectionately, watching the minuscule protoplasm fluttering on the slide. You dirty little bastard.

It was a moment in which he felt a desperate need to believe in a God that shepherded his own creations. But, even praying, he felt a twinge of self-reproach, and knew he might start mocking his own prayer at any second. Somehow, though, he managed to ignore his iconoclastic self and went on praying anyway. Because he wanted the dog, because he needed the dog.

The day the library was shut down, he thought, some maiden librarian had moved down the room, pushing each chair against its table. Carefully, with a plodding precision that was the cachet of herself.

„Another day. Another collection of wracking hours.

I think What Dreams May Come is the most important (read effective) book I've written. It has caused a number of readers to lose their fear of death the finest tribute any writer could receive. ... Somewhere In Time is my favorite novel.

When Morton Silkline reached the hall, his customer was just flapping out a small window. Quite suddenly, Morton Silkline found the floor.

The origin of the word “body” is the Anglo-Saxon “bodig” meaning abode. Which is what the physical body is, you see, Robert. A transient dwelling for the real self.

It’s at times like this I hate the brain. It always builds more barriers than it can topple.