Quotes from Stephen King

The little ones are the only good human beings.

Sorry is the Kool-Aid of human emotions. It's what you say when you spill a cup of coffee or throw a gutter ball when you're bowling with the girls in the league. True sorrow is as rare as true love.

It came to him (and with the force of a revelation) that life was basically one long SAT test, and instead of four or five choices, you got dozens.

Me cae bien la gente que lee libros, y no sólo porque yo solía escribirlos. Los lectores de libros están tan dispuestos como cualquiera a iniciar una conversación con el tema del tiempo, pero son capaces de pasar de ahí.

Because there really is a second world. It exists because people refuse to believe it's there.

I have never been what you'd call a crying man.

When you empty out the vessel, you also empty out all the crap floating around in there. The additives. The impurities. It sure feels good. It's a whole body, whole-minded enema.

Think of those fingers as abilities. A creative person may write, paint, sculpt, or think up math formulae; he or she might dance or sing or play a musical instrument. Those are the fingers, but creativity is the hand that gives them life. & just as all hands are basically the same - form follows function - all creative people are the same once you get down to the place where the fingers join.

Which is what most of our modern communications amount to, when you stop to think of it; chatter for the sake of chatter.

Rivers of wrinkles flowing down from the corners of this eyes and mouth.

He had come to believe that life was a series of ironic ambushes. - Doctor Sleep

The two best things in life are warm croissants and a quick way home.

Hey hey Susan Day have you killed any kids today?

Hearts don't really break. If only they could.

And that's when you realize what the Wagon really is, Lloyd. It's a church with bars on the windows, a church for women and a prison for you.

Jail,' the big cop said in his stuffy, liquid voice. 'Where anything you bray will be abused against you in a sort of caw.

two bitches livin on a little chunk of rock...

Yet suppose further. Suppose that all worlds, all universes, met in a single nexus, a single pylon, a Tower. A stairway, perhaps, to the Godhead itself. Would you dare, gunslinger? Could it be that somewhere above all of endless reality, there exists a Room...? You dare not. You dare not. Someone has dared, the gunslinger said. Who would that be? God, the gunslinger said softly. His eyes gleamed. God has dared...or is the room empty, seer?

All the same, you don't do it for money, or you're a monkey. You don't think of the bottom line, or you're a monkey. You don't think of it in terms of hourly wage, yearly wage, even lifetime wage, or you're a monkey. In the end you don't even do it for love, although it would be nice to think so. You do it because to not do it is suicide.

It was as hysterical as a woman having a hot flash.

Do any of us, except in our dreams, truly expect to be reunited with our hearts' deepest loves, even when they leave us only for minutes, and on the most mundane of errands? No, not at all.

They were drugged, stone in love. To them every scar on the face of the world was a beauty mark.

Then she screamed. There were no words in it, nor could there have been. Our greatest moments of triumph are always inarticulate.

I guess most jokes have some truth in them and that's what makes them funny.