Quotes from Dean Koontz

I will hold her hand at the end, and I will pass soon after, for we are one heart, and neither of us would be of use without the other.

it is essentially not about sensation but about passion, and passion is not of the flesh but of the mind and heart.

By her stare, this woman settled a solemn awe upon my heart, and I was frightened by the degree to which I felt humbled and by the intensity with which I felt loved, and I had to look away.

Sometimes, when someone has led a nearly perfect life but is not yet worthy of nirvana, that person is reincarnated as a very beautiful dog. When the life as the dog comes to an end, the person is reincarnated one last time as a human being, and lives a perfect life. Your dog is a person who has almost arrived at complete enlightenment and will in the next life be perfect and blameless, a very great person. You have been given stewardship of what you in your faith might call a holy soul.

We not-much-of-anything types don't worry about the cost of leaving a light on unnecessarily.

I never plan for the future but wander into it with a smile on my face, hope in my heart, and the hair up on the nape of my neck.

When I was no longer of the world, I would miss its extravagant beauty.

The guy at the cash register is a redhead in his thirties with freckles and a two-inch-diameter birthmark, as pink as uncooked salmon, on his pale forehead. The mark is uncannily like the image of a fetus curled in a womb, as if a gestating twin had died early in the mother's pregnancy and left its fossilized image on the surviving brother's brow.

Every day we make our way through a moral forest, along pathways ever branching. Often we get lost. When the array of paths before us is so perplexing that we can't make a choice, or won't, we can hope that we will be given a sign to guide us. A reliance on sighs, however, can lead to the evasion of all moral obligations, and thus earn a terrible judgment.

People should matter more than ideas.

I would miss the kindness of good people who were compassionate when so many were pitiless, who made their way through so much corruption without being corrupted themselves, who eschewed envy in a world of envy, who eschewed greed in a world of greed, who valued truth and could not be drowned in a sea of lies, for they shone and, by the light they cast, they had warmed me all my life.

We are not, however, a species that can choose the baggage with which it must travel. In spite of our best intentions, we always find that we have brought along a suitcase or two of darkness, and misery. For

The way Winny saw it, the best thing and the worst thing were the same thing: nothing lasted ... what to say and felt you didn't belong anywhere, books were a way to lead another life, a way to be someone else entirely, to be anyone at all.

People scare me more than anything, for I know too well the savagery of which humankind is capable. To

When I woke up and the dark wasn't gone yet, and the dark seemed so big, then she sang soft and made the dark small again. That is the best of all things we can do for one another: Make the dark small.

He can't always watch us directly,...with his fullest attention every minute, but He's always at least watching from the corner of his eye.

Prayers did receive replies, but you had to listen closely and believe in the answers...God doesn't shout, He wispers, and in the wispers is the way.

People have lost their history, the what and how and why of things. They know so little of the places where they live.

Were you always such a snake, the child asked, or did you grow into what you are?

You've always been stone solid until now, like Joe Friday with no Y chromosome. Now you're Nancy Drew on a sugar rush.

Why aren't we designed to be unable to harm one another? Why aren't our brains wired so that we can't kill or rape or steal or lie or deceive? Why are we formed with the capacity to hate and envy?

Every place is the same place in the end.

Perhaps extreme danger strips us of all pretenses, all ambitions, all confusions, focusing us more intensely than we are otherwise ever focused, so that we remember what we otherwise spend most of our lives forgetting: that our nature and purpose is, more than anything else, to love and to make love, to take joy from the beauty of the world, to live with an awareness that the future is not as real a place for any of us as are the present and the past.

When my wits fail me, I resort to self-deception.