Quotes from Stephen King

Kill your darlings.

all novels are really letters aimed at one person.

Detta thought he and Eddie were monsters of some species she called Honk Mafahs.

I believe in my consciousness and my unconscious, even though I don't know what those things are.

If being a grown-up really meant knowing better, why did his father go on smoking three packs of unfiltered cigarettes a day?

Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity.

It was the Tower. The Dark Tower. It stood on the horizon of a vast plain the color of blood in the violent setting of a dying sun. He couldn't see the stairs which spiraled up and up and up within its brick shell, but he could see the windows which spiraled up along that staircase's way, and saw the ghosts of all the people he had ever known pass through them. Up and up they marched, and an arid wind brought him the sound of voices calling his name.

Sons figured out they were bigger and never forgot it. Sons didn't care about the world they left for their sons or for their daughters, although they said they did when the time came to run for office.

Guilt is like a sore, endlessly fascinating, and the guilty party feels compelled to examine it and pick at it, so that it never really heals.

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

For your family, you do all that you can.

I hate the assumption that you can't write about something because you haven't experienced it, and not just because it assumes a limit on the human imagination, which is basically limitless. It also suggest that some leaps of identification are impossible. I refuse to accept that real change is beyond us, and so is empathy.

Given time, words may even enchant an enchanter.

Brace d'inverno, I capelli tuoi, Dove il mio cuore brucia.

Well then, I'm going to tell you a secret almost every newspaper man and woman who's been at it awhile knows: in real life, the number of actual stories - those with beginnings, middles, and ends - are slim and none. But if you can give your readers just one unknown thing (two at the very outside) and then kick in what Dave Bowie there calls a musta-been, your reader will tell himself a story.

Come back here, kid! I'll blow you for free. Come back here!

hope is a good thing, and good things never die!

Without Constant Reader, you are just a voice quacking in the void.

Annie Wilkes was the perfect audience, a woman who loved stories without having the slightest interest in the mechanics of making them. She was the embodiment of that Victorian archetype, Constant Reader.

Jack stood in the dining room just outside the batwing doors leading into the Colorado Lounge, his head cocked, listening. He was smiling faintly. Around him, he could hear the Overlook Hotel coming to life. It

I wish I had looked longer, but I don't blame myself. You never know where the trapdoors are in your life, do you?

El amor es lo que mueve el mundo. Es la única cosa que permite a hombres y mujeres seguir en pie en un mundo donde la gravedad siempre parece estar queriendo derribarlos, llevarlos hacia abajo, hacerles arrastrarse.

So fell Lord Perth, he said, and the countryside did shake with that thunder.

The country is an amazing paradox. In other lands, when a man eats to his fullest day after day, that man becomes fat…sleepy…piggish. But in this land…it seems the more you have the more aggressive you become.