Quotes about stephen-king

Nothing in nature is that even man is the inventor of straight edges.

For a moment the dark and fearsomely sad thoughts which inhabit her mind grow even sadder and darker Lisey thinks they will either kill her or drive her insane.

The exhausted mind is obsession's easiest prey.

The mind can calculate, but the spirit yearns, and the heart knows what the heart knows

Sometimes human places, create inhuman monsters.― Stephen King, The Shining

It's worked! Our marriage has outlasted all of the world leaders, except for Castro. And if we keep talking, arguing, making love and dancing to the Ramones- it'll probably keep working.

At the end of her life she was aware of heat but not pain. She had time to consider his eyes, eyes of that blue which is the color of the sky at first light of the morning. She had time to think of him on the Drop, riding Rusher flat out with his black hair flying back from his temples and his neckerchief rippling; to see him laughing with an ease and freedom he would never find again in the long life which stretched out for him beyond hers, and it was his laughter she took with her as she went

I believe the first draft of a book — even a long one — should take no more than three months…Any longer and — for me, at least — the story begins to take on an odd foreign feel, like a dispatch from the Romanian Department of Public Affairs, or something broadcast on high-band shortwave duiring a period of severe sunspot activity.

Twas something else. I had come to hate her, you see. I had come to wish her dead, and that was what held me back.

He could not say goodbye to these three rooms as he could to a house he had loved: hotel rooms accepted departures emotionlessly.

There was a lot they didn’t tell you about death, she had discovered, and one of the biggies was how long it took the ones you loved most to die in your heart.

What are the differences between me and you, I stand up and continue you just stay down and don't move and you think that nobody will touch. But when you are down, you always easy to be attacked - You will find down "IT" :D :D

I heard that Stephen King doesn't sleep well,... so I gues that he doesn't sleep well from his imagination. If I had the same imagination I won't sleep too!

I'm not asking you to come reverently or unquestioningly; I'm not asking you to be politically correct or cast aside your sense of humor (please God you have one). This isn't a popularity contest, it's not the moral Olympics, and it's not church. But it's Writing, damn it, not washing the car or putting on eyeliner. If you can take it seriously, we can do business. If you can't or won't, it's time for you to close the book and do something else. Wash the car, maybe.

Monsters are real and ghosts are real too they live inside us and sometimes they win.

Stephen King once wrote, “Nightmares exist outside of logic, and there’s little fun to be had in explanations; they’re antithetical to the poetry of fear.” In a horror story, the victim keeps asking why - but there can be no explanation, and there shouldn’t be one. The unanswered mystery is what stays with us the longest, and it’s what we’ll remember in the end.

...and still the hands did their trick, like over-eager dogs that want to do their rolling—over trick for you not once or twice but all night.

[L]ife is more than just steering a course around pain.

great literature is literature that speaks to deep, fundamental human truths and experience in a way that is relatable to the reader and that may provoke engagement or facilitate insight into these truths and experiences. If these truths and experiences are about breaches of the normal, then surely horror has a place in literature, and in facts may proffer deep engagement with the most profound aspects of our existence. Sometimes only horror can say what needs to be said.

If there are ten thousand medieval peasants who create vampires by believing them real, there may be one–probably a child–who will imagine the stake necessary to kill it. But a stake is only stupid wood; the mind is the mallet which drives it home.

In Sarasota, Florida, Stephen King reminded me of the joy of just writing every day.

Get busy living or get busy dying.”― Stephen King, The Shawshank Redemption

Your hair is winter fire,January embers.My heart burns there, too.-Stephen King, IT

In the end, the wind takes everything, doesn't it? And why not? Why other? If the sweetness of our lives did not depart, there would be no sweetness at all.

Eddie discovered one of his childhood's great truths. Grownups are the real monsters, he thought.

Dreams are a simple psychological emetic, and people who have them are more blessed than cursed

I just met Stephen King in my dreams... I just said what I have watched and read from his books... Mainly I received a hug from him, it was like we are friends from long time.

If someone had asked him, “Ben, are you lonely? , ” he would have looked at that someone with real surprise. The question had never even occurred to him. He had no friends, but he had his books and his dreams...

Sometimes you want to change the past by going from the future in the past. But sometimes you find that everything which you have done, it's not better but it becomes worst but why?(11.22.63 - Better Check it out!)

I changed it. I had to. Do you know why?" She studied him, her eyes grave. "Because that was then and this is now. Because the past is gone, even though it defines the present.

Isn't bravery always sort of beautiful?

Writers remember everything...especially the hurts. Strip a writer to the buff, point to the scars, and he'll tell you the story of each small one. From the big ones you get novels. A little talent is a nice thing to have if you want to be a writer, but the only real requirement is the ability to remember the story of every scar.Art consists of the persistence of memory.

Fifty yards ahead of us, a doe had come out of the woods. She stepped delicately over one rusty GS&WM track and onto the railbed, where the weeds and goldenrod were so high they brushed against her sides. She paused there, looking at us calmly, ears cocked forward. What I remember about that moment was the silence. No bird sang, no plane went droning overhead. If my mother had been with us, she'd have had her camera and would have been taking pictures like mad. Thinking of that made me miss her

Shall I tell you what sociology teaches us about the human race? I’ll give it to you in a nutshell. Show me a man or woman alone and I’ll show you a saint. Give me two and they’ll fall in love. Give me three and they’ll invent the charming thing we call “society”. Give me four and they’ll build a pyramid. Give me five and they’ll make one an outcast. Give me six and they’ll reinvent prejudice. Give me seven and in seven years they’ll reinvent warfare. Man may have been made in the image of God,

Why does she have to be such a...such a...""Go on," I said. "The truth is never cussing, Son.""Such a bitch!

Life is fair. We all get the same nine-month shake in the box, and then the dice roll. Some people get a run of sevens. Some people, unfortunately, get snake-eyes. Its just how the world is.

Am I weird?""Yeah. But so what? Everybody's weird.

FEAR stands for fuck everything and run.

If it's ka it'll come like a wind, and your plans will stand before it no more than a barn before a cyclone

Sometimes when you're young, you have moments of such happiness, you think you're living on someplace magical, like Atlantis must have been. Then we grow up and our hearts break into two.

…but I guess you can never wash anything completely away, not from this dark glass of a world, and now I saw them again, a tangle of names overlying one another, and looking at them was like listening to the dead speak and sing and cry out for mercy.

Allie sighed. It was an old yellow sound, like turning pages.

Do you know why they call me the Count? Because I love to count! Ah-ha

It's as if God gave you something-all those stories- and said, "Here you are. Try not to lose it." But children lose everything unless somebody is there to help them, and if your parents are too stupid to do it, maybe i ought to.

The feel of the sticky wetness down there when she moved made her grimace. God, she wanted to get cleaned up. In a hurry.

He sat there studiously bent over his work (Bill saw him), which lay in a slant of crisp white winterlight, his face sober and absorbed, knowing that to be a librarian was to come as close as any human being can to sitting in the peak-seat of eternity’s engine.

When rationality begins to break down, the circuits of the human brain can overload. Axons grow bright and feverish. Hallucinations turn real: the quicksilver puddle at the point where perspective makes parallel lines seem to intersect is really there; the dead walk and talk; a rose begins to sing.

So what, ghosts can't hurt you. That's what I thought then.

Not everyone believes in ghost’s, but I do. Do you know what they are, Trisha?“ She had shaken her head slowly. "Men and women who can’t get over the past,” Aunt Evie said. “That’s what ghost’s are. Not them.” She flapped her arm toward the coffin which stood on its bands beside the coincidentally fresh grave. “The dead are dead. We bury them, and buried they stay.

If Stephen King was a killer, he will be the best killer ever existed, check out his novels, check out the killing... That's insane!

I just predicted whose son will be taken in Storm of Century By Stephen King it was Ralph Emerick 'Ralphie' Anderson. Isn't it interesting that I gues who will be taken??

You need to take out the stuff that’s just sitting there and doing nothing. No slackers allowed! All meat, no filler!

There is a muse, but he’s not going to come fluttering down into your writing room and scatter creative fairy-dust all over your typewriter or computer station. He lives in the ground. He’s a basement guy. You have to descend to his level, and once you get down there you have to furnish an apartment for him to live in. You have to do all the grunt labor, in other words, while the muse sits and smokes cigars and admires his bowling trophies and pretends to ignore you.

Rings and magazines; keychains and umbrellas; hats and glasses; rattles and radios. They looked like different things, but Ralph thought they were really all the same thing: the faint, sorrowing voices of people who had found themselves written out of the script in the middle of the second act while they were still learning their lines for the third, people who had been unceremoniously hauled off before their work was done or their obligations fulfilled, people whose only crime had been to be bo

Stephen King is a powerful guy, will powerful vocabulary.

Because that was then and this is now. Because the past is gone, even though it defines the present.

Some things you never forgot. She had come to believe that the very things the practical world dismissed as ephemera—things like songs and moonlight and kisses—were sometimes the things that lasted the longest. They might be foolish, but they defied forgetting. And that was good. That was good.

Memory is the basis of every journey.

Close your eyes and click your heals three times...because there's no place like Dome.

Driving a desk was sometimes lonely, but Eddie had been in the drivers'-seat himself more than once, his aspirator riding there with him on the dashboard, its trigger reflected ghostly in the windshield (and a bucket-load of pills in the glove compartment), and he knew that real loneliness was a smeary red: the color of the taillights of the car ahead of you reflected on wet hottop in a driving rain.

Pet Sematary 1 is one crazy story and film.

I am not the potter, not the potter's wheel, but the potter's clay; is not the value of the shape attained as dependent upon the intrinsic worth of the clay as upon the wheel and the Master's skill?

...some of it's how he acts like he's King Shit of Turd Mountain, but mostly it's that he's sneaky, and he likes to hurt

I like zombies, Stephen King also like them.Zombies are pretty interesting creatures,...

It was never for you, Annie, or all the other people out there who sign their letters “Your number-one fan.” The minute you start to write all those people are at the other end of the galaxy, or something. It was never for my ex-wives, or my mother, or for my father. The reason authors almost always put a dedication on a book, Annie, is because their selfishness even horrifies themselves in the end.

We see her go through dangerous mood-swings, but I tried never to come right out and say "Annie was depressed and possibly suicidal that day" or "Annie seemed particularly happy that day."If I have to tell you, I lose. If, on the other hand, I can show you a silent, dirty-haired woman who compulsively gobbles cake and candy, then have you draw the conclusion that Annie is in the depressive part of a manic-depressive cycle, I win.

Writing does not cause misery, it is born of misery.

She gave him a strange maternal grin.For the first time, clearly, the thought surfaced in Paul Sheldon’s mind: I am introuble here. This woman is not right.

If a book is not alive in the writer's mind, it is as dead as year-old horse-shit

1408 Film by Stephen King freak me out, the story also freak me out. But watching the film how is made, how much reverses were shown just terrified me. The ending was suprising!

Sometimes the only thing to do is to take the thing that you must have. Even if someone gets hurt.

It took me twenty years of living with my father to accept the idea that being good could be good enough.

Goo can't be return from dead person, revive him and you will see an evil thing. WHich isn't really that the person... (Pet Semetary 1 by Stephen King)

I'm not much of a believer in the so-called character study; I think that in the end, the story should always be the boss.

I'm not much of a believer in the so-called character story; I think that in the end, the story should always be the boss.

The perception of a child who has not yet learned to protect itself by developing the tunnel vision that keeps out ninety percent of the universe.

Paths cross all the time in this world of ours, sometimes in the strangest places- Charles Jacobs

Doctor Sleep - book (By Stephen King) is the best choice before going to bed!

No one ever forgets a toy that made him or her supremely happy as a child, even if that toy is replaced by one like it that is much nicer.

I used to hammer away at the idea of simplicity.In both fiction and non-fiction, there's only one question and one answer. 'What happened?' the reader asks. 'This is what happened,' the writer responds. 'This...and this...and this, too.' Keep it simple. It's the only sure way home.

the man in black travels with your soul in his pocket.

They had discovered one could grow as hungry for light as for food.

They were close to the end of the beginning . . .

The book which I read by Stephen Hand, Freedy VS Jason, was incrediable. I also check out and the book Zodiac, again an incrediable story. The Stand by Stephen King was again on incrediable story, a long book and film, but incrediable!Theory of Everything where it put it me I still can't believe, it was unique story, I had chance to see who is Stephen Hawking really!

The truth is that most writers are needy.

James Altucher reminds me for Stephen King... when is about Stephen King his 2 sons, probably the one or no,no both they look like him.

When you write a story you're telling yourself the story. When you rewrite your main job is taking out all the things that are NOT the story.

I knew there were no ghosts in there, but on the other hand, what if there were?

Donald Trump is worse than any horror story I've written.

He supposed that even in Hell, people got an occasional sip of water, if only so they could appreciate the full horror of unrequited thirst when it set in again.

Oh Christ, he groaned to himself, if this is the stuff adults have to think about I never want to grow up

stop now before i kill youa word to the wise from your friendPENNYWISE

It ain't the blows we're dealt that matter, but the ones we survive.

There was an ocean above us, held in by a thin sac that might rupture and let down a flood at any second.

Never tell to much. The monster is always scarier when it is still under the child's bed.

Moonlight flooded in the windows and silvered the room, turning it into a lagoon of dreams

Pack up all my care and woe, blackbird, bye-bye

Give me just enough information so that I can lie convincingly.

You can see the evil, the evil is everywhere. As Far as I can tell I can build a town full of horror.