Quotes from Stephen King

Everything seemed to stand out with a special dearness, and although I never could have said that out loud I didn't think it mattered - maybe that sense of dearness was something I wanted just for myself.

I thought there would be time, but we always think stuff like that, don't we? We fool ourselves so much we could do it for a living.

And when she talks of Carrie White her face takes on an odd pinched look that is more like Lovecraft out of Arkham than Kerouac out of Southern Cal.

For over a long period of time there's little in life so disheartening as constant cold - not deep enough to kill, mayhap, but always there, stealing your energy and your will and your body-fat, an ounce at a time.

I am not the potter, nor the potter's wheel, but the potter's clay, does it depend on the value achieved intrinsic as much as the value of the clay as the wheel and master craftsmanship?

That's really all art is about, I think, and not just pictures—it's the same with books and stories and sculpture and even castles in the sand. Some things call to us, that's all. It's as if the people who made them were speaking inside our heads.

Money can't buy happiness, but it allows one to endured unhappiness in relative comfort.

Energy has a way of dissipating, you know; what can be done when you're eleven can often never be done again.

And there he would either be mercifully annihilated or live forever, insane and yet conscious inside It's homicidal endless formless hungry being.

The only two useful art forms are religion and stories.

Sometimes you could get rid of the ghosts that were haunting your life if you could only work up enough courage to face them.

I'm like the curious cat. You know what they say—satisfaction brought him back.

She looked at Danny. His face was all eyes. His mouth was pressed into a frightened, bloodless slit.

But even things not there have weight. Negative weight which is the worst kind.

The world's most brilliant confabulators are in asylums.

The soil of a man's heart is stonier [...] A man grows what he can... and he tends it - Jud Crandall, Chapter 22 (near end) Pet Sematary

Se volete fare gli scrittori, ci sono due esercizi fondamentali: leggere molto e scrivere molto. Non conosco stratagemmi per aggirare queste realtà, non conosco scorciatoie.

The silence was a comfortable one, as if they had known each other for a long time. This was a feeling about which Louis had read in books, but which he had never experienced until now.

It was, he thought, fine to be young and in love. Even in the graveyard which this world has become, it was fine.

Just the act of cooking made her feel better, because cooking was life.

Most politicians lie for the same reason a monkey swings by his tail, which is to say because he can.

Some things don't rest easy, even when they're dead. Their bones cry out from the ground.

You cannot friend a hawk, they said, unless you are half a hawk yourself, alone and only a sojourner in the land, without friends or the need of them. The hawk pays no coinage to love or morals.

There's really no just about it, is there?