Quotes from Joe Hill

There's something horribly unfair about dying in the middle of a good story, before you have a chance to see how it all comes out. Of course, I suppose everyone always dies in the middle of a good story, in a sense. Your own story. Or the story of your children. Or your grandchildren.

He watched until Danny passed through the gates, turned left, and disappeared from sight. Jude never saw him again.

I see God now as an unimaginative writer of popular fictions, someone who builds stories around sadistic and graceless plots, narratives that exist only to express His terror of a woman's power to choose who and how to love, to redefine love as she sees fit, not as God thinks it ought to be.

My father says Alamagüselum lives in the walls and drinks tears.

Time must be slowed to a crawl to make sense of any scene of true chaos—to show the flurry of human action and reaction going off like multiple strings of firecrackers, all at once. Every

Humanity is worse than flies. If even one dried nugget of offal survives the flames, we'll be swarming all over it. Fighting about who owns it and selling the most fragrant chunks to the wealthy and the gullible. You're afraid it's the End Times because we're surrounded by death and ruin. Nurse Willowes, don't you know? Death and ruin is man's preferred ecosystem. Did

The author is unworthy of His own characters. The devil is first a literary critic, who delivers this untalented scribbler the public flaying He deserves.

It took me a moment to realize he was joking. He was very dry. He didn't even smile at his own jokes, let alone laugh at them. Didn't give you any clues he was being funny. Oh

To weep was a kind of luxury; the dead felt no loss, wept for no one and nothing.

The enthusiasm, the swell of sweet courage he heard in her voice, filled him with Seattle-grunge levels of despair.

I'm surprised you could get in," says the big man. "They've got to draft a certain number of unqualified inner-city kids to meet their quota. That means a lot less space for people like you." "People like what?" Fidelman asks, enunciating slowly and deliberately. People. Like. What? Nearly fifty years of being gay has taught Fidelman that it is a mistake to let certain statements pass unchallenged.

If books were girls, and reading was s-ss-ssss—fucking, this would be the biggest whorehouse in the county and I'd be the most ruthless pimp you ever met.

Miriam sang, "Gail, Gail, she bosses everyone around. Gail, Gail, she is really stupid." The melody was just as good as the lyrics.

Although nothing keeps a person youthful like happiness. Innocent fun is as good as pickling a fellow!

Harper smiled weakly for Renée, but felt unsteady and sick. She had to close her eyes to withstand the assault of the last thunderous verse—her Dragonscale crawled unpleasantly, and the only thought she could manage was, Stop, stop, stop—and when it was over, and the room erupted into stamping feet and whistles and applause, it was all she could do not to cry.

It's dark out, you autistic fuck.

Folks woke up today to a poisoned world, and some of them won't see any reason to hold back on doing the awful things they've always dreamed of.

In Maine, around the Lewiston/Auburn/Derry area, there was a place called PENNYWISE CIRCUS. A

Horror was rooted in sympathy, after all, in understanding what it would be like to suffer the worst.

understood—heroism was exhausting business.

I was so scared of doing the wrong thing I hardly ever did the right thing." Vic

Yeah. Ideally I'd like to see us leave a swath of destruction that can be seen from orbit. Barring that, let's at least try to destroy something precious and beautiful that can never be replaced

an instinct for running his mouth when anyone else would know to shut up.

Gold don't come off. What's good stays good, no matter how much of a beating it takes.