“It is women who love horror. Gloat over it. Feed on it. Are nourished by it. Shudder and cling and cry out-and come back for more.”

I guess I’m pretty much of a lone wolf. I don’t say I don’t like people at all, but, to tell you the truth, I only like it then if I have a chance to look deep into their hearts and their minds.

You can’t make people believe in you if you play a horror part with your tongue in your cheek.

The love-bite, it is the beginning. You will be irresistible.

That is different, to have someone think that I am evil when I really am not.

I don’t have a dime left. I am dependent on my friends for food and a small old-age pension.

Because of my language and the pantomime with which most Europeans accompany their speech, I was catalogued as a heavy.

Women have a predestination to suffering.

Circumstances made me the theatrical personality I am, which many people believe is also a part of my personal life.

Death, the final, triumphant lover.

I have lived too completely. I think I have known every human emotion.

When a film company is in the red they come to me. Always it is the same.

It is women who bear the race in bloody agony. Suffering is a kind of horror. Blood is a kind of horror. Women are born with horror in their very bloodstream. It is a biological thing.

It took me years to live down Dracula and convince the film producers that I would play almost any other type of role.

Actors were exploited no less by the capitalist managers than they were by the state.

In the studio the director controls the actor’s every move, every inflection, every expression.

I’d like to quit the supernatural roles and play just an interesting, down-to-earth person.

Occasionally, the sun is eclipsed by the body of a weeping human. Her tears make the soil harden and crust like the top of a burnt load of bread.

Falling down ain’t falling down, If you don’t cry when you hit the floor, It’s called the past cause I’m getting past, And I ain’t nothing like I was before, You ought to see me now.

Sometimes you’ll laugh. Sometimes you’ll cry. Life never tells us, the when’s or why’s. When you’ve got friends, to wish you well. You’ll find your point when. You will exhale.

I’ve painted stars around tears that I’ve cried. And now my pain is a galaxy and every star has a name and every name feels like pain and you’re every star.

If I should die this very day, Don’t cry…cause on Earth We wasn’t meant to stay.

I was aware of people staring at me. No one moved. They seemed almost in trance. I just stared at the clock in the center of the church. When I finished, everyone clapped and started crying.

I haven’t cried in a while it feels like my tears have dried. But I miss you more than my eyes could ever cry.

The sky was crying so I wiped away her tears, just like all the times she did the same me.