Quotes from Dean Koontz

All our yesterdays neatly shelved, time cataloged in drawers: News grows brittle and yellow under the library, in catacombs of paper.

merely litter, as if it must have some ominous significance. As it gazed at me from the cupped palm of my right hand, I didn't realize that the sounds of the city were diminishing, until suddenly I became aware that a profound silence had fallen over the alleyway. For an instant, I thought that I had gone deaf, but then I heard myself say, "What's happening?

have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.' 

In the film industry, especially in the TV branch, there is a widespread contempt for the viewing public, which explains why the great majority of films are boring and stupid.

In the war, to survive, you had to be responsible every minute of every day, unhesitatingly responsible for yourself, for your every action. You had to be responsible for your buddies, too, because survival wasn't something that could be achieved alone. That's maybe the one positive thing about fighting in a war - it clarifies your thinking and makes you realize that a sense of responsibility is what separates good men from the damned.

Sorrow might have grown into depression if he had been a less positive person, but his lifelong experience was that every spell of darkness lifted soon enough, so that light came again into the soul and mind and heart, which were not made for darkness.

If you evoked that frown, what you feared was his disapproval, and when you learned that you had disappointed him, you realized that you needed his approval no less than you needed air, water, and food.

From time to time, things in this world fall out of harmony, and there is a need to synchronize.

No one can genuinely love the world, which is too large to love entire. To love all the world at once is pretense or dangerous self-delusion. Loving the world is like loving the idea of love, which is perilous because, feeling virtuous about this grand affection, you are freed from the struggles and the duties that come

we've become hollow men, stuffed men, heads filled with straw, no convictions or higher purpose…and for hollow men, the world will end not with a bang but a whimper.

Echoing off the tile walls, the sizzle-splash of the falling water sounded like the hissing of serpents and the brittle laughter of strange children.

Her stare was direct and unwavering, full of confidence earned from painful experience...

On a small table beside his chair were other haphazardly stacked volumes by such poets as Emerson, Whitman, and Wallace Stevens, a dangerous crew to let into your head.

It's just, well, I can't stand it when someone's unfair to Mr. Wolflaw, because he's really so … he's so incredible." "I understand. It really steams me when people say bad things about Vladimir Putin.

The chief characteristics of my childhood were an aching loneliness and the daily struggle to avoid a bleakness of spirit that unrelieved loneliness can foment.

Still abiding under the same vault of stars that were, to her, filled with wonder and mystery; but that were, to him, nothing more than distant balls of fire and cataclysm

I'm Odd but I'm not nuts.

she and I seem to be more alike than not, acutely aware of the strangeness of the world and charmed by it's mysteries.

I read to keep from being sad.

Maybe you're not a believer, but if you're honest, you'll have to agree that something is wrong with this place. Senseless violence, corrupting envy, greed, blind hatred, and willful ignorance seem to be proof that Earth has gone haywire, but so is the absurdity that we see everywhere.

Death was everywhere, he was legion, and you couldn't escape his attention, but in some places he manifested in greater numbers than in others.

I'd had much practice turning my mind away from certain memories of my childhood. I could quickly dial her remembered voice from a whisper to a silence.

Only the moonlit mind allows wonder, and it is in the thrall of wonder that you can see the intricate weave of the world of which you are but one thread, one fantastic and essential thread.

Between birth and burial, we find ourselves in a comedy of mysteries.