Quotes from Stephen King

Love don't die with the earthly body, son. It's a purely ridiculous notion.

Woody Allen was right: eighty percent of success is just showing up.

There's little in life that's so disheartening as constant cold.

But the people didn't elect buffoons to Washington. Well—hardly ever.

The way those old memories kept bubbling to the surface in the present tense was disturbing. It was as if the past had never died; as if on some level of time's great tower, everything was still happening.

Here is something I learned in 1922: there are always worse things waiting. You think you have seen the most terrible thing, the one that coalesces all your nightmares into a freakish horror that actually exists, and the only consolation is that there can be nothing worse. Even if there is, your mind will snap at the sight of it, and you will know no more. But there is worse, your mind does not snap, and somehow you carry on. You might understand that all the joy has gone...

Kojak drifted down deeper, now into real sleep, now into a dream, a good dream of chasing rabbits through the clover and timothy grass that was belly-high and wet with soothing dew. His name was Big Steve. This was the north forty. And oh the rabbits are everywhere this gray and endless morning— As he dreamed, his paws twitched.

What must it be like for a suicide coming down from a high ledge? I'm sure it must be a very sane feeling. That's probably why they scream all the way down.

Strip away the metaphors, Jeannie had said, and you are left with the inexplicable. The supernatural. Only that's not possible. The supernatural may exist in books and movies, but not in the real world.

God's a connoisseur of fragile things, and decorates His cloudy outlook with ornaments of finest glass.

She's looking at him with something like wonder. "Why do you weep, Jack?" "The past," he says. "Isn't that always what does it?" And thinks of his mother, sitting by the window, smoking a cigarette, and listening while the radio plays "Crazy Arms." Yes, it's always the past. That's where the hurt is, all you can't get over.

Look', she said. It's going to be a beautiful sunset. Shall we stay out and watch it?' 'All right,' I said, and we stayed there on the lawn for quite awhile, arms around each other's waists, first watching the bright colors come up in the sky, then watching them fade to ashes of gray.

Strange, the things you noticed when your day—your life—suddenly went over a cliff you hadn't even known was there.

And of our memories, of course. They have voices, too. Ask anyone who has ever lost a limb or a child or a long-cherished dream. Ask anyone who blames himself for a bad decision, usually made in a raw instant (an instant that is most commonly red). Our memories have voices, too. Often sad ones that clamor like raised arms in the dark.

Movies, they were the thing. Movies took you away. You could count on popcorn and happy endings.

He had lived long enough to know there was a little scumbag in everyone, but it didn't help much when you had to take out the trash.

It makes no difference if you're rich or poor Or if you're smart or dumb. A woman's place in this old world Is under some man's thumb, And if you're born a woman You're born to be hurt. You're born to be stepped on, Lied to, Cheated on, And treated like dirt. -Sandy Posey, 'Born a Woman' Lyrics by Martha Sharp

The hardest for man is lie to himself between 3:00 and 6:00 in the morning.

You can rank me to the dogs and back, but I'll never lose the hard-on I use to fuck your mother.

Monster dog. Like Cujo in that movie.

They discuss the characters as though they were living people, and ask frequently, 'What happened to so-and-so?'... as if I got letters from them every now and again.

You try to tell yourself that you've been lucky, most incredibly lucky, and usually that works because it's true. Sometimes it doesn't work, that's all. Then you cry.

that the hungover eye had a weird ability to find the ugliest things in any given landscape.

It makes no difference if you're rich or poor Or if you're smart or dumb. A woman's place in this old world Is under some man's thumb, And if you're born a woman You're born to be hurt. You're born to be stepped on, Lied to, Cheated on, And treated like dirt. —Sandy Posey, "Born a Woman" Lyrics by Martha Sharp