Stephen King Quotes

Humor is almost always anger with its make-up on.. Stephen King

Humor is almost always anger with its make-up on.

you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.. Stephen King

you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.

There's an old rule of theater that goes, 'If there's a gun on the mantel in

There's an old rule of theater that goes, 'If there's a gun on the mantel in Act I, it must go off in Act III.' The reverse is also true.

Quiet people have the loudest minds.. Stephen King

Quiet people have the loudest minds.

What you love, you must love all the harder because someday it will be gone.. Stephen

What you love, you must love all the harder because someday it will be gone.

That wasn't any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery.. Stephen King

That wasn't any act of God. That was an act of pure human fuckery.

FEAR stands for fuck everything and run.. Stephen King

FEAR stands for fuck everything and run.

The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want for nothing. He makes me lie down

The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want for nothing. He makes me lie down in the green pastures. He greases up my head with oil. He gives me kung-fu in the face of my enemies. Amen

Get busy living or get busy dying.. Stephen King

Get busy living or get busy dying.

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win..

Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to

Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.

Fault always lies in the same place: with him weak enough to lay blame.. Stephen King

Fault always lies in the same place: with him weak enough to lay blame.

He who speaks without an attentive ear is mute.. Stephen King

He who speaks without an attentive ear is mute.

Words have weight.

You always know the truth, because when you cut yourself or someone else with it, there’s

You always know the truth, because when you cut yourself or someone else with it, there’s always a bloody show.

Some part of me knew from the first that what I wanted was not reality but

Some part of me knew from the first that what I wanted was not reality but myth.

If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to

If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.

The road to hell is paved with adverbs.. Stephen King

The road to hell is paved with adverbs.

Fiction is the truth inside the lie.. Stephen King

Fiction is the truth inside the lie.

The scariest moment is always just before you start.. Stephen King

The scariest moment is always just before you start.

A short story is a different thing all together - a short story is like a kiss in the dark from a stranger.

Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.

Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy.

Any word you have to hunt for in a thesaurus is the wrong word. There are no exceptions to this rule.

Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.

A little talent is a good thing to have if you want to be a writer. But the only real requirement is the ability to remember every scar.

If you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second-to-least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.

In many cases when a reader puts a story aside because it 'got boring,' the boredom arose because the writer grew enchanted with his powers of description and lost sight of his priority, which is to keep the ball rolling.

So okay― there you are in your room with the shade down and the door shut and the plug pulled out of the base of the telephone. You've blown up your TV and committed yourself to a thousand words a day, come hell or high water. Now comes the big question: What are you going to write about? And the equally big answer: Anything you damn well want.

You cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you.

It is the tale, not he who tells it.

Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up.

The trick is to teach yourself to read in small sips as well as long swallows.

If you're just starting out as a writer, you could do worse than strip your television's electric plug-wire, wrap a spike around it, and then stick it back into the wall. See what blows, and how far. Just an idea.

If you wrote something for which someone sent you a check, if you cashed the check and it didn't bounce, and if you then paid the light bill with the money, I consider you talented.

Good description is a learned skill, one of the prime reasons why you cannot succeed unless you read a lot and write a lot. It’s not just a question of how-to, you see; it’s also a question of how much to. Reading will help you answer how much, and only reams of writing will help you with the how. You can learn only by doing.

When you write a book, you spend day after day scanning and identifying the trees. When you’re done, you have to step back and look at the forest.

The more you read, the less apt you are to make a fool of yourself with your pen or word processor.

I like to get ten pages a day, which amounts to 2,000 words. That’s 180,000 words over a three-month span, a goodish length for a book - something in which the reader can get happily lost, if the tale is done well and stays fresh.

you must not come lightly to the blank page.

I am always chilled and astonished by the would-be writers who ask me for advice and admit, quite blithely, that they "don't have time to read." This is like a guy starting up Mount Everest saying that he didn't have time to buy any rope or pitons.

I see things, that's all. Write enough stories and every shadow on the floor looks like a footprint; every line in the dirt like a secret message.

Outlines are the last resource of bad fiction writers who wish to God they were writing masters' theses.

You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or despair ... Come to it any way but lightly.

Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.

Bad writing is more than a matter of shit syntax and faulty observation; bad writing usually arises from a stubborn refusal to tell stories about what people actually do― to face the fact, let us say, that murderers sometimes help old ladies cross the street.

When you sit down to write, write. Don't do anything else except go to the bathroom, and only do that if it absolutely cannot be put off.

As with all other aspects of the narrative art, you will improve with practice, but practice will never make you perfect. Why should it? What fun would that be?

The glory of a good tale is that it is limitless and fluid; a good tale belongs to each reader in its own particular way.

Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second-to-least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects.

No, it’s not a very good story - its author was too busy listening to other voices to listen as closely as he should have to the one coming from inside.

There are lots of guys out there who write a better prose line than I do and who have a better understanding of what people are really like and what humanity is supposed to mean – hell, I know that.

Sometimes stories cry out to be told in such loud voices that you write them just to shut them up.

The rest of it - and perhaps the best of it - is a permission slip: you can, you should, and if you're brave enough to start, you will.

I've met talespinners before, Jake, and they're all cut more or less from the same cloth. They tell tales because they're afraid of life.

I believe the first draft of a book - even a long one - should take no more than three months…Any longer and - for me, at least - the story begins to take on an odd foreign feel, like a dispatch from the Romanian Department of Public Affairs, or something broadcast on high-band shortwave duiring a period of severe sunspot activity.

As it happened, all three of us turned out to be real writers-a coincidence almost too large to be termed mere coincidence in a society where literally tens of thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands) of college students aspire to the writer's trade and where bare hundreds actually break through.

Sometimes you have to go on when you don't feel like it, and sometimes you're doing good work when if feels like all you're managing is to shovel shit from a sitting position.

Reading takes time, and the glass teat takes too much of it.

I am, when you stop to think of it, a member of a fairly select group: the final handful of American novelists who learned to read and write before they learned to eat a daily helping of video bullshit.

It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy.

For me, that emotional payoff is what it’s all about. I want you to laugh or cry when you read a story...or do both at the same time. I want your heart, in other words. If you want to learn something, go to school.

‎If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot…reading is the creative center of a writer’s life…you cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you.

remember Stephen King's First Rule of Writers and Agents, learned by bitter personal experience: You don't need one until you're making enough for someone to steal ... and if you're making that much, you'll be able to take your pick of good agents.

Fantasy fiction is essentially about the concept of power; great fantasy fiction is about people who find it at great cost or lose it tragically; mediocre fantasy fiction is about people who have it and never lose it but simply wield it.

Story is honorable and trustworthy; plot is shifty, and best kept under house arrest.

The idea that creative endeavor and mind-altering substances are entwined is one of the great pop-intellectual myths of our time.

Symbolism exists to adorn and enrich, not to create an artificial sense of profundity.

...writers are often the worst judges of what they have written.

What about reality, you ask? Well, as far as I'm concerned, reality can go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. I've never held much of a brief for reality, at least in my written work. All too often it is to the imagination what ash stakes are to vampires.

It seems to occur to few of the attendees [of a writing retreat] that if you have a feel you just can't describe, you might just be, I don't know, kind of like, my sense of it is, maybe in the wrong fucking class.

It's best to have your tools with you. If you don't, you're apt to find something you didn't expect and get discouraged.

But in the wake of 'Bullet,' all the guys wanted to know was, 'How's it doing? How's it selling?' How to tell them I didn't give a flying fuck how it was doing in the marketplace, that what I cared about was how it was doing in the reader's heart?

I gradually realized that I was seeing another example of creative ebb, another step by another art on the road that may indeed end in extinction.

I'm convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing. If one is writing for one's own pleasure, that fear may be mild - timidity is the word I've used here. If, however, one is working under deadline - a school paper, a newspaper article, the SAT writing sample - that fear may be intense.

The work, the pride in your work, the worth of the work itself...all those things faded away to the magic-lantern shades they really were when the pain got bad enough.

The world is falling down around our ears, and all these people care for is talking about fucking to women in short skirts and men with their shirts hanging open

and so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love's ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.

Not that length and weight alone indicate excellence; many epic tales are pretty much epic crap.

Read sometimes for the story, Bobby. Don't be like the book-snobs who won't do that. Read sometimes for the words - the language. Don't be like the play-it-safers that won't do that. But when you find a book that has both good story and good words, treasure that book.

Confucius say if man want to grow one row of corn, first must shovel one ton of shit.

The concept of dreaming is known to the waking mind but to the dreamer there is no waking, no real world, no sanity; there is only the screaming bedlam of sleep.

Discipline and constant work are the whetstones upon which the dull knife of talent is honed until it becomes sharp enough, hopefully, to cut through even the toughest meat and gristle.

Paths cross all the time in this world of our, sometimes in the strangest places.

There had never been a shortage of fools in the world

love is what moves the world, I've always thought...it is the only thing which allows men and women to stand in a world where gravity always seems to want to pull them down...bring them low...and make them crawl...

For men, I think, love is a thing formed of equal parts lust and astonishment. The astonishment part women understand. The lust part they only think they understand.

If it's ka it'll come like a wind, and your plans will stand before it no more than a barn before a cyclone

I think part of being a parent is trying to kill your kids.

A boy who once wiped his ass with poison ivy probably doesn't belong in a smart people's club.

Oh shit, the mummy's after us, let's all walk a little faster

Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not.

No one ever does live happily ever after, but we leave the children to find that out for themselves.

We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why.

What we like to think of ourselves and what we really are rarely have much in common....

I wouldn't have missed a single minute of it, Not for the whole world.

You are the grim, goal-oriented ones who will not believe that the joy is in the journey rather than the destination no matter how many times it has been proven to you.

Life is fair. We all get the same nine-month shake in the box, and then the dice roll. Some people get a run of sevens. Some people, unfortunately, get snake-eyes. Its just how the world is.

I wanted to say goodbye to someone, and have someone say goodbye to me. The goodbyes we speak and the goodbyes we hear are the goodbyes that tell us we´re still alive.

They're animals, all right. But why are you so goddam sure that makes us human beings?

The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there...and still on your feet.

And people who don’t dream, who don’t have any kind of imaginative life, they must… they must go nuts. I can’t imagine that.

If you don’t have the time to do something right, where are you going to find the time to fix it?

To write is human, to edit is divine.

I felt lonely and content at the same time. I believe that is a rare kind of happiness.

A person can go along quite awhile if they get a good day every once and again.

Why does she have to be such a...such a..."

"Go on," I said. "The truth is never cussing, Son."

"Such a bitch!

Things conceived by minds and made by hands can never be quite the same, even if they try their best to be identical, because they're never the same from day to day or even moment to moment.

He was in that mostly empty-headed state of grace which is sometimes such fertile soil ; it's the ground from which our brightest dreams and biggest ideas (both good and spectacularly bad) suddenly burst forth, often full-blown.

Remember that "seeing is believing" puts the cart before the horse. Art is the concrete artifact of faith and expectation, the realization of a world that would otherwise be little more than a veil of pointless consciousness stretched over a gulf of mystery.

This inhuman place makes human monsters.

Few if any seemed to have grasped the Principle of Reality; new knowledge leads always to yet more awesome mysteries. Greater physiological knowledge of the brain makes the existence of the soul less possible yet more probable by the nature of the search.

Why' is a crooked letter and can't be made straight.

The greatest mystery the universe offers is not life but Size.

But this wealth of information produced little or no insight.

Sometimes when you're young, you have moments of such happiness, you think you're living on someplace magical, like Atlantis must have been. Then we grow up and our hearts break into two.

Sometimes dead is better

You're dead, George. You just don't have the sense to lie down.

We fall from womb to tomb, from one blackness and toward another, remembering little of the one and knowing nothing of the other ... except through faith.

There was a lot they didn’t tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart.

The monster nevers dies.

We have once again succeeded in destroying what we could not create.

We each owe a death, there are no exceptions, I know that, but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.

The family exists for many reasons, but its most basic function may be to draw together after a member dies.

Kill you all!" The clown was laughing and screaming. "Try to stop me and I'll kill you all! Drive you crazy and then kill you all! You can't stop me!

Twas something else. I had come to hate her, you see. I had come to wish her dead, and that was what held me back.

To his way of thinking, the only thing more natural than death was sex.

Death in the horror movies is when the monsters get you.

never's the word God listens for when he needs a laugh.

You said 'God is cruel' the way a person who's lived his whole life on Tahiti might say 'Snow is cold'. You knew, but you didn't understand." He stepped close to David and put his palms on the boy's cold cheeks. "Do you know how cruel your God can be, David. How fantastically cruel?

It don't matter if you believe in God Nick, he believes in you.

If God rewards us on earth for good deeds - the Old Testament suggests it’s so, and the Puritans certainly believed it - then maybe Satan rewards us for evil ones.

She was satisfied with the answer God had given Moses from the burning bush when Moses had seen fit to question. Who are you? Mose asks, and God comes back from that bush just as pert as you like: I Am, Who I AM. In other words, Mose, stop beatin around this here bush and get your old ass in gear.

Remember, Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.

Free at last, he thought. Great God Almighty, I'm free at last. Then: I believe this is redemption. And it's good, isn't it? Quite good, indeed.

I am, he thought dimly, watching a vampire take a piss.

All right I think we've been down here in the dark long enough. There's a whole other world upstairs. Take my hand Constant Reader and I'll be happy to lead you back into the sunshine. I'm happy to go there because I believe most people are essentially good. I know that I am. It's you I'm not entirely sure of.

PRECOGNITION, TELEPATHY, BULLSHIT! EAT MY DONG, YOU EXTRASENSORY TURKEY!

You ought to sue that son of a whore

A life without books is a thirsty life, and one without poetry is...like a life without pictures.

Every man or woman who loves Him, they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God.

Oh no, praying is great, without it the thumbscrews and the Iron Maiden probably never would have been invented.

The woman who preaches has poison religion. Let the respectable ones go

A successful marriage was a balancing act-that was a thing everyone knew. A successful marriage was also dependent on a high tolerance for irritation.

Talent is a wonderful thing, but it won't carry a quitter.

It's how we see the world that keeps the darkness beyond at bay. Keeps it from pouring through and devouring us. I think all of us might know that, way down deep.

Everybody trusts a guy in a raincoat. I don't know why. It's just one of those mystery facts.

Strong delusions travel like cold germs on a sneeze.

Your first impulse is to share good news, your second is to club someone with it.

She couldn't be on his wavelength all the time. That's all. When you could recognize that and deal with it, you were on your way to an adult relationship.

Shall there be truth between us, as two men? Not as friends, but as enemies and equals?

He was one of those quite rare adults who communicate with small children fairly well and who love them all impartially-not in a sugary way but in a businesslike fashion that may sometimes entail a hug, in the same way that closing a big business deal may call for a handshake.

their respect for the mystery-the half-grasped but never spoken idea that maybe, when you got right down to the place where the cheese binds, there is no such thing as marriage, no such thing as union, that each soul stood alone and ultimately defied rationality. That was the mystery.

I know how bad you boys feel, but the sun will still come up tomorrow. And when it does, you 'll feel better. When the sun comes up the day after tomorrow, a little better still. This is just a part of your life, and it's over. It would have been better to win, but either way, it's over. Life will go on.

One of his followers murmured agreement, but another quietly slipped away. Now there was Norton and four others. Maybe that wasn't so bad. Christ Himself could only find twelve.

Pull down your pants! I've heard about nigger-cocks my whole life but never seen one!

Books are a uniquely portable magic.

Books are the perfect entertainment: no commercials, no batteries, hours of enjoyment for each dollar spent. What I wonder is why everybody doesn't carry a book around for those inevitable dead spots in life.

Good books don't give up all their secrets at once.

Speaking personally, you can have my gun, but you'll take my book when you pry my cold, dead fingers off of the binding.

You want to remember that while you're judging the book, the book is also judging you.

Without story books is like a person with no soul.

Jake went in, aware that he had, for the first time in three weeks, opened a door without hoping madly to find another world on the other side. A bell jingled overhead. The mild, spicy smell of old books hit him, and the smell was somehow like coming home.

A book is like a pump. It gives nothing unless first you give to it. You prime a pump with your own water, you work the handle with your own strength. You do this because you expect to get back more than you give.

Good books are for consideration after, too.

Books are Uniquely Portable Magic

Me cae bien la gente que lee libros, y no sólo porque yo solía escribirlos. Los lectores de libros están tan dispuestos como cualquiera a iniciar una conversación con el tema del tiempo, pero son capaces de pasar de ahí.

If you drop a book into the toilet, you can fish it out, dry it off and read that book. But if you drop your Kindle in the toilet, you’re pretty well done.

Anyway, as the old barrelhouse song says, My God, how the money rolled in. Norton must have subscribed to the old Puritan notion that the best way to figure out which folks God favours is by checking their bank acounts.

WHERE THE HELL IS DERRY, MAINE?

Time's the thief of memory

Time heals all wounds.

Time and tide wait for no man.

In the end, the wind takes everything, doesn't it? And why not? Why other? If the sweetness of our lives did not depart, there would be no sweetness at all.

Las personas con un alto nivel de tolerancia al aburrimiento tienen tiempo de sobra para pensar.

she might have been pretty when she started out, but the world had moved on since then.

He had never been a social man. He had shunned causes with contempt and disgust. They were for pig-simple suckers and people with too much time and money on their hands

But time changed. That was something only drunks and junkies understood. When you
couldn’t sleep, when you were afraid to look around because of what you might see, time elongated and grew sharp teeth.

The way those old memories kept bubbling to the surface in the present tense was disturbing. It was as if the past had never died; as if on some level of time's great tower, everything was still happening.

I think houses live their own lives along a time-stream that's different from the ones upon which their owners float, one that's slower. In a house, especially an old one, the past is closer.

A woman who would steal your love when your love was really all you had to give was not much of a woman.

I tend to scare myself.

If a fear cannot be articulated, it can't be conquered.

Love didn't grow very well in a place where there was only fear

Eddie discovered one of his childhood's great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.

FEAR stands for face everything and recover – Old AA saying

Alone.

Yes,that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.

...fear is actually an acronym for Fuck Everything And Run.

The fears of children were simpler and usually more powerful. The fears of children could often be summoned up in a single face... and if bait were needed, why, what child did not love a clown?

And when there are enough outsiders together in one place, a mystic osmosis takes place and you're inside.

Come to the book as you would come to an unexplored land. Come without a map. Explore it and draw your own map.

Obliqueness is the curse of the reading class.

If you drop your Kindle in the toilet, you're done.

That's the curse of the reading class. We can be seduced by a good story even at the most inopportune moments.

the late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood ...

Do you see this heart-stopping beauty? Look closely, because in a moment your heart will stop.

Your hair is winter fire,
January embers.
My heart burns there, too.
-Stephen King, IT

To the loving eye, even smallpox scars are beautiful.

When I say truth, I mean beauty.

Your man Jesus seems to me a bit of a son of a bitch when it comes to women,´Roland said. ´Was He ever married?´
The corners of Callahan's mouth quirked. ´No´ he said, ´but His girlfriend was a whore.´
´Well,´ Roland said, ´that's a start.´

What I know now is that gallant young men rarely get pussy. Put it on a sampler and hang it in your kitchen.

Любовта е една голяма фалшификация! - продължаваше да настоява Олсон. - Има три големи

When it comes to sex, no pairing is beyond belief.

Lend me your wings, bird. I'll spread them and fly on the thermals.

I deal in lead! Roland called, and Eddie felt goose-bumps pebble his arms.

When an imaginative person gets into mental trouble, the line between seeming and being has a way of disappearing-

...She helped me find my heart when I thought my heart was gone.

No good friends, no bad friends; only people you want,
need to be with. People who build their houses in your heart .

For a moment he felt a wild hope: perhaps this really was a nightmare. Perhaps he would awake in his own bed, bathed in sweat, shaking, maybe even crying . . . but alive. Safe. Then he pushed the thought away. Its charm was deadly, its comfort fatal.

...there were those who might have suggested that reality is a highly untrustworthy concept, something perhaps no more solid than a piece of canvas stretched over an interlacing of cables like the strands of a spiderweb.

Cat can have kittens in the oven, girl, but that won’t ever make em muffins.

Fighting for peace, is like f***ing for chastity

Do they see the lethal insanity of a race to the brink of oblivion, and then over the edge? Apparently not. If they did, surely they wouldn't be racing to begin with. Or is it a simple failure of imagination? One doesn't like to think such a rudimentary failing could bring about the end, yet...

It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn't in the middle of the room. Life isn't a support system for art. It's the other way around.

How to Draw a Picture (XII)

Know when you're finished, and when you are, put your pencil or your paintbrush down. All the rest is only life.

The muses are ghosts, and sometimes they come uninvited.

Viața nu e suport pentru artă. Invers stau lucrurile.

I don't want to think too much about art, you see. I don't want to attend symposia, listen to papers, or discuss it at cocktail parties ... What I want to do is clutch my heart and fall down when I see it. (Mr. Nannuzzi to Edgar)

In the end it was Tabby who cast the deciding vote, as she so often has at crucial moments in my life. I'd like to think I've done the same for her from time to time, because it seems to me that one of the things marriage is about is casting the tiebreaking vote when you just can't decide what you should do next.

Todo buen matrimonio es un territorio secreto, un espacio necesariamente en blanco en el mapa de la sociedad. Lo que los demás no saben de él es lo que lo hace tuyo.

Any good marriage is secret territory, a necessary white space on society’s map. What others don’t know about it is what makes it yours.

A man with a good wife is the luckiest of God's creatures...

The shuddering would not stop. The pain was like the end of the world. He thought: There comes a point when the very discussion of pain becomes redundant. No one knows there is pain the size of this in the world. No one. It is like being possessed by demons.

There was a beautiful feeling of calm in my groin, a sense of peace so remarkable it was almost ecstasy - - anyone who' suffered bad pain and then recovered will know what I'm talking about.

Also, I’m angry. I know life is hard, I think everyone knows that in their hearts, but why does it have to be cruel, as well? Why does it have to bite?

Pain is the biggest power of love." That's what Wireman says.

The pain was brilliant, like a poisonous inspiration.

Every man or woman who loves [God], they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God, He Is, what He Is, and in this world He's apt to repay service with pain while those who do evil ride over the roads in Cadillac cars. Even the joy of serving Him is a bitter joy.

That was what I wanted, but I don't need it to be gone. I can love you and I can love life and bear the pain all at the same time. I think the pain might even make the rest better, the way a good setting can make a diamond look better.

Home is where they want you to stay longer

and now, all these years later, it seem to him that the most horrible fact of human existence was that broken hearts mended

Like all sweet dreams, it will be brief, but brevity makes sweetness, doesn't it?

You grew up, became a man, had to adjust to taking less than you hoped for; you discovered the dream-machine had a big OUT OF ORDER sign on it.

Creo que todo sueño que se repite tiene algo de misterioso, pues nos hace percatarnos de que el inconsciente está cavando obsesivamente para desenterrar un objeto que se niega a salir.

The eyes were damned, the staring, glaring eyes of one who sees but does not see, eyes ever turned inward to the sterile hell of dreams beyond control, dreams unleashed, risen out of the stinking swamps of the unconscious.

There came a time when you realized that moving on was pointless. That you took yourself with you wherever you went.

It's a hard life if you don't weaken.

People who leave their drugs in a bathroom the guests use are just asking for trouble.

When you were building that all-important stairway to heaven, you couldn't just stand around with your hammer in your hand.

In here I'm the guy who can get things for you... outside all you need is the Yellow Pages. I don't think I could make it.

You couldn't not like someone who liked the guitar.

No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side.

Or you don't.

I changed it. I had to. Do you know why?" She studied him, her eyes grave. "Because that was then and this is now. Because the past is gone, even though it defines the present.

A change is as good as a rest.

It’s a wholly illogical but nonetheless powerful belief that things will change for the better in a new place; that the urge to self-destruct will magically disappear.

Friends don’t spy; true friendship is about privacy, too.

I think that real friendship always makes us feel such sweet gratitude, because the world almost always seems like a very hard desert, and the flowers that grow there seem to grow against such high odds.

If you've ever been homesick, or felt exiled from all the things and people that once defined you, you'll know how important welcoming words and friendly smiles can be.

Pride was the belt you used to hold your pants up when you had no pants.

Friendships founded on laughter are always fortuitous.

Само враговете казват истината. Приятелите и любовниците лъжат неуморно, оплетени в м�

George, I’m sorry!” he cried through his tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m suh-suh-SORRY - ” And then they were around him, his friends, and no one lit a match, and someone held him, he didn’t know who, Beverly maybe, or maybe Ben, or Richie. They were with him, and for that little while the darkness was kind.

Schizoid behavior is a pretty common thing in children. It's accepted, because all we adults have this unspoken agreement that children are lunatics.

Non lasciare che qualcuno cerchi di convincerti che i bambini non si portino dietro i loro rancori nella vita da adulti.

She can't help it,' he said. 'She's got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog.

The Man in Black fled across the desert, and the Gunslinger followed

...and still the hands did their trick, like over-eager dogs that want to do their rolling - over trick for you not once or twice but all night.

It is completely raw, the sort of thing I feel free to do with the door shut - it’s the story undressed, standing up in nothing but its socks and undershorts.

Keeping up the fiction. You have to keep it up, sometimes, no matter how you feel.

A man who loves money is a bastard, someone to be hated. A man who can't take care of it is a fool. You don't hate him, but you got to pity him.

Why is it that so many people think all the answers are in their wallet?

Money talks, bullshit walks.

Sooner or later even the fastest runners have to stand and fight.

Monsters are real and ghosts are real too they live inside us and sometimes they win.

There's no room for anything but joy and fear, and joy ruled the house. Fear lived in the shack out back!

We'll just have to get along. That's what people do, you know? They just get along. And try to help each other.

Who gets to be best-liked in any community? Who is the most trusted? Why, the man who does the dirty job, of course, and does it with a smile. The man who does the job you couldn't bring yourself to do.

Men! She could not understand why so many women feared them. Hadn't the gods made them with the most vurnerable part of their guts hanging right out of their bodies, like a misplaced bit of bowel? Kick them there and they curled up like snails. Caress them there and their brains melted.

The fundamental difference between the sexes is this: men make assumptions, but women rarely do.

Do grown men always have to play games? Does everything have to be an excuse for another kind of game? Do any men grow up or do they only come of age?

When certain seeds are planted, they nearly always grow.

A person can't change all at once.

A man who doubts himself shouldn't have to try too hard for too long, not until he's seasoned.

She looks like the type that might freak out. It's something in the eyes, Frannie. It says if you shoot my sacred cows, I'll shoot yours.

The mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows

It was really amazing the number of hard hits from which a mind could recover.

But there are weak men who can lift cars if their wives are pinned underneath. The brain, Garraty." McVries's voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. "It isn’t man or God. It’s something...in the brain.

A tragedy is a tragedy, and at the bottom, all tragedies are stupid. Give me a choice and I'll take A Midsummer Night's Dream over Hamlet every time. Any fool with steady hands and a working set of lungs can build up a house of cards and then blow it down, but it takes a genius to make people laugh.

People don't get better, they just get smarter. When you get smarter you don't stop pulling the wings off flies, you just think of better reasons for doing it.

If you're going into a very dark place, then you should take a bright light, and shine it on everything. If you don't want to see, why in God's name would you dare the dark at all?

When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens, "Why god? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, There's just something about you that pisses me off.

Membacalah empat jam sehari dan menulislah empat jam sehari. Kalau kau tidak bisa meluangkan waktu untuk itu, jangan harap kau bisa menjadi penulis yang baik.

Stephen King Quotes

Biography

Stephen King Quotes

Share Page

Stephen King Wiki

Stephen King At Amazon

Best Quotes Ever Topics

Best Quotes Ever Authors