Quotes from Stephen King

I've made some things for you, Constant Reader; you see them laid out before you in the moonlight. But before you look at the little handcrafted treasures I have for sale, let's talk about them for a bit, shall we? It won't take long. Here, sit down beside me. And do come a little closer. I don't bite. Except... we've known each other for a very long time, and I suspect you know that's not entirely true. Is it?

We all write fiction when we write about the past.

Winnie, but I don't believe in sin." He smiled. It was a benevolent smile. Also unpleasant: sheep lips, wolf teeth. "That's fine. But sin believes in you.

Most people are optimists, although they may claim they are not. People who call themselves realists are often the biggest optimists of all.

I guess that means I won in the end, at least in a financial sense. But in my heart I stayed ashamed. I kept hearing Miss Hisler asking me why I wanted to waste my talent, why I wanted to waste my time, why I wanted to write junk.

When dawn was still long hours away, bad thoughts took flesh and began to walk. In the middle of the night thoughts became zombies.

Just go on dancing with me like this forever, Garraty. And I'll never tire. We'll scrape our shoe on the stars and hang upside dowm from the moon.

And fire was evil stuff that delighted in escaping the hands which created it.

What about reality, you ask? Well, as far as I'm concerned, reality can go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut. I've never held much of a brief for reality, at least in my written work. All too often it is to the imagination what ash stakes are to vampires.

I kissed her, just a gentle brush of my lips across hers. It was like swallowing a tiny drop of something incredibly sweet.

He did it (listened) as the world's most charming and magnetic people do, always asking the right question at the right time, never fidgeting or taking his eyes from the speaker's face, making the other guy feel like the most knowledgeable, brilliant, and intellectually savvy person on the planet.

He had been (Thinking? Praying?) It was all the same thing.

Dreams are the way we touch the unseen world, that's what I believe. They are a special gift.

If loyalty was toilet paper... we'd be hard-pressed to wipe our asses, old buddy.

perhaps real beauty was something unrecognized by the conscious self, a work that was always in progress, a thing of being rather than seeing.

I'm often asked if I think the beginning writer of fiction can benefit from writing classes or seminars. The people who ask are, all too often, looking for a magic bullet or a secret ingredient or possibly Dumbo's magic feather, none of which can be found in classrooms or at writing retreats, no matter how enticing the brochures may be.

The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.

Mind over matter in any form is a terrific drain on the body's resources.

I guess a sock is also a geometric shape—technically—but I don't know what you'd call it. A socktagon?

She did not know if her gift had come from the lord of light or of darkness, and now, finally finding that she did not care which, she was overcome with an almost indescribable relief, as if a huge weight, long carried, had slipped from her shoulders.

He could feel the pores of his body open like a million mouths and slurp the water in like a sponge.

You could not moralize children out of growing up. Or teach them how to do it.

Case fuckin closed.

They are surprised that he did it, though, which shows you that the male mind expects very little in the way of altruism from it's fellows.