Rampo Edogawa Quotes

This is what I am talking about: the bewitching power of moonlight. Moonlight incites dark passions like a cold flame, making hearts burning with the intensity of phosphorus.

The living world is a dream. The nocturnal dream is reality.

From dawn to dusk I spent my time in the real world. Only in my dreams at night could I indulge my fantasies.

What was Dr. Mera's motive for murder? I don't need to tell that to a writer of detective novels such as yourself. You know well enough yourself that even without a motive, a murderer lives to kill.

Art, according to him, was the revolt of humans against nature. It was none other than the expression of a human being’s dissatisfaction with the way things are and his desire to imprint his own individual personality upon nature.

If beauty gains in depth when colored by fear, then there is probably nothing more beautiful in the world than the spectacle at the bottom of the sea.

I’ll just say that in the face of the power of money the word “impossible” does not exist, and leave it at that.

I've lost to you. I've lost completely.' She had not merely lost at battle. Indicating without words that she also meant her defeat at something totally different, she began to weep, the tears overflowing from her half closed eyes.

Give a guilty man enough rope," rejoined Dr. Akechi philosophically, "and he'll supply enough evidence to hang himself.

Indeed, during such times the laboratory was transformed into a purgatory of freaks.

Through the boundless darkness, it seemed as if our long, gloomy carriage were the only existing world, monotonously rumbling along on its creaky wheels, my peculiar companion and I the only creatures alive.

Only two or three months ago, one of the Tokyo newspapers (I can’t remember which) admirably reported that a two hundred inch astronomical telescope in America was halfway toward completion. I should like to praise the editor of that newspaper. Articles about war, foreign affairs, and the stock market are not the only things that should be considered newsworthy. A two hundred inch lens can magnify our view of the cosmos considerably. The scope of human vision will expand tremendously. It will become possible to see what was once impossible to behold. It will be a momentous occasion, as though the whole human race, once blind, is granted the gift of sight. Its importance is unrivalled by any war.

With one or two possible exceptions, there isn’t a fiction writer out there who is fit to become the king of an actual (earthbound) castle. It is precisely because they are better suited to rule castles in the air that they pursue this path.

After seeing the various fantastic sights, a visitor to Panorama Island would have had to gasp in amazement at this unsurpassable view. He would have had the impression that the entire island was a rose floating on the vast ocean and that the giant scarlet flower of an opium dream was conversing on an equal footing with the sun in the sky, just the two of them. What kind of strange beauty had that incomparable simplicity and grandeur created? Some travelers might have recalled the world of myth that their distant ancestors had seen. . . . How can the author describe the madness and debauchery, the pleasures of revelry and drunkenness, the numberless games of life and death that were played day and night on that magnificent stage? You readers might find something that resembled it, in part, in your most fantastic, bloodiest, and most beautiful nightmares.

This “thing” that lay before her was indeed a living creature. He had lungs and a stomach as well as a heart. Nevertheless, he could not see anything; he could not hear anything; he could not speak a word; he had no limbs. His world was a bottomless pit of perpetual silence and boundless darkness. Who could imagine such a terrible world? With what could the feeling of a man living in that abyss be compared?

Korku da öyle bir şeydir ki insanın uğraşacak başka meşgalesi olmayınca büyür de büyür, tüm bedenini kaplar.

There must have been a time in this world when humans realized for the first time the beauty that resides in the sinuosity of a curve.

Could it be that in the end, we Japanese are unable to feel true love for any except our fellow Japanese?

Y con el transcurrir de los meses me iba ahogando en la persistencia de mi desgracia

When he recalled it later, he would realize that his feeling at the time was akin to sleepwalking, and that though he was about to carry out his plan, he felt strangely empty, as if that great plan were some casual pleasure trip that he was setting out on. But somewhere in a corner of his mind lurked the consciousness that what he was doing was actually a dream and that there was another real world waiting for him on the other side of the dream.

Why would a man become crazy if he entered a glass globe lined with a mirror? What in the name of the devil had he seen there? . . . Did he go made after taking a glance at himself reflected by a completely spherical mirror? Or did he slowly lose his sanity after suddenly discovering that he was trapped inside his horrible, round glass coffin—together with “that” reflection?

I am terrified of moving pictures. They are the dreams of an opium addict. From a single inch of film emerge giants who fill the whole theater. They laugh, they cry, they get angry, and they fall in love. Swift’s vision of a land of giants exquisitely unfolds before our eyes.