Quotes from Stephen King

That life was richer,' a voice deep in his mind whispered. 'This one is truer,' whispered another, even deeper.

Innocence to experience. Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl.

Then, as understanding began to trickle through his shock, he felt an escalating sense of horror. It had finally happened; he had finally lost enough of his mind so that other people would be able to *tell*.

Death, but not for you, gunslinger.

You got style, you got class, you got the lips to kiss my ass.

Cut him. Cut him while I stand here and watch. I want to see the blood flow. Don't make me tell you twice.

Some things you never forgot. She had come to believe that the very things the practical world dismissed as ephemera—things like songs and moonlight and kisses—were sometimes the things that lasted the longest. They might be foolish, but they defied forgetting. And that was good. That was good.

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.

The two most beautiful words in any language are  : I forgive.

He said the mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows.

Later, with strange galaxies turning in slow gavotte overhead, neither thought the act of love had ever been so sweet, so full

What he knows now is that guilt isn't the only reason people commit suicide. Sometimes you can just get bored with afternoon TV.

Sometimes you can't help people. Sometimes it's better not even to try.

A library card is good to have, you can never have too much ID.

Stories are artifacts, not really made things which we create and can take credit for, but pre-existing objects which we dig up.

This tune is called "What She Don't Know Won't Hurt Her. " But it hurts somewhere. In the spaces between people, maybe.

the look of the sky as the day's blue blood runs out of its cheek.

What we've got here is a lunatic genius ghost-in-the-computer monorail that likes riddles and goes faster than the speed of sound. Welcome to the fantasy version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Long days and pleasant nights

Dan thought of another AA aphorism: We're powerless over people, places, and things. Like most alkie nuggets, it was seventy percent true and thirty percent rah-rah bullshit.

Why feel bad about what you couldn't change? Why not embrace it?

The two of them had discovered it was all right to open the closets...as long as you didn't poke too far back in them. Because things might still be lurking there, ready to bite.

Anyone who doesn't think the imagination can kill is a fool.

The first thing was to get down to Addie Richardson's henhouse, and that was a goodish way, four or five miles. She found herself wondering if the Lord was going to send her an eagle to fly her those four miles, or send Elijah in his fiery chariot to give her a lift. Blasphemy, she told herself complacently. The Lord provides strength, not taxicabs.