Quotes from Stephen King

El hombre de negro huía a través del desierto, y el pistolero iba en pos de él.

The thought that grieving for a fictional character was absurd did more than cross his mind during his tossings and turnings. For grieving was exactly what he was doing, of course.

So fell Lord Perth," murmured Roland. "And the countryside did shake with that thunder," Jake finished.

His love for his wife and son was not beautiful—no one would ever write a poem to the passion of a man who balled his socks before his wife—but it was sturdy and unswerving.

Something in the fog! he screamed, and Billy shrank against me-whether because of the man's bloody nose or what he was saying, I don't know. Something in the fog took John Lee! Something- He staggered back against a display of lawn food stacked by the window and sat down there.Something in the fog took John Lee and I heard him screaming!

Going north, he thought, but that was wrong. Not going north. Because it's not a train; it's a time machine. Not north; back. Back in time. He thought he heard the moon mutter.

You're a Frankenstein !" "Don't confuse the monster with the creator.

When your lover begins to talk about "offending" you, he's not your lover anymore.

Not all is silent in the halls of the dead and the rooms of ruin. Even now some of the stuff the Old Ones left behind still works. And that's really the horror of it, wouldn't you say? Yes. The exact horror of it.

He will hear this voice in uneasy dreams for the rest of his life, never quite remembering what he has dreamed, only knowing that the dreams leave him feeling ill somehow—walking restlessly, straightening pictures in loveless rooms, listening to the call to muzzein in alien town squares.

Although deer season doesn't start until November in Maine, the fields of October are often alive with gunshots; the locals are shooting as many peasants as they think their families will eat.

One either absorbs the grammatical principles of one's native language in conversation and in reading or one does not. What Sophomore English does (or tries to do) is little more than the naming of parts.

literature instead of cleanliness was next to godliness.

I will live my life until my life runs out. I am wonderful, I deserve to be wonderful, and I contain multitudes.

I always told myself I didn't do it because I don't hold with hitting women. I still don't. But when a person-man or woman-turns into a dog and begins to bite, someone has to shy it off.

could consistently tell me no without making me angry. He was a genius of no.

I think we mostly live alone. By choice, like him, or just because that's the way the world was made.

Who is that trip-trapping upon my bridge?' Miss Davies spoke in the low, growling tones of the troll in the story. Some of the little ones covered their mouths and giggled, but most only watched her solemnly, accepting the voice of the troll as they accepted the voices of their dreams, and their grave eyes reflected the eternal fascination of the fairy tale: would the monster be bested . . . or would it feed?

People. People drag you down.

My father, " she said, pronouncing it fadder, and Beverly saw that her dress had also changed. It had become a scabrous, peeling black. The cameo was a skull, its jaw hung in a diseased gape. "His name was Robert Gray, better known as Bob Gray, better known as Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Although that was not his name, either. But he did love his joke, my fadder.

Your Plan and the stuff that comes out of my asshole bear a suspicious resemblance to each other.

Down here, I believe there are more universes in every fistful of sand, because infinity is a two-way street

I think our phones are how we are wedded to the world. If so, it's probably a bad marriage.

If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'll love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it's yours.