Stephen King

Then, for no reason I could tell you, I tossed the spool again, even though Elaine had asked me not to. Maybe only because, in a way, him chasing a spool was like old people having their slow and careful version of sex - you might not want to watch it , you who are young and convinced that, when it comes to old age, an exception will be made in your case, but they still want to do it.

When it comes to sex, no pairing is beyond belief.

What I know now is that gallant young men rarely get pussy. Put it on a sampler and hang it in your kitchen.

When an imaginative person gets into mental trouble, the line between seeming and being has a way of disappearing-

Cat can have kittens in the oven, girl, but that won__ ever make em muffins.

...there were those who might have suggested that reality is a highly untrustworthy concept, something perhaps no more solid than a piece of canvas stretched over an interlacing of cables like the strands of a spiderweb.

I suspect that fright, like pain, is one of those things that slip our minds once they have passed. What I do remember is a feeling I'd had before when I was down here, especially when I was walking this road by myself. It was a sense that reality is thin. I think it is thin, you know, thin as lake ice after a thaw, and we fill our lives with noise and light and motion to hide that thinness from ourselves.

Now that he wanted to feel like he was having a bad dream, he wasn't. He was having a bad reality, and that was something from which you could not wake.

Some part of me knew from the first that what I wanted was not reality but myth.

The memories: they are the reality.

If you fell outward to the limit of the universe, would you find a board fence and signs reading DEAD END? No. You might find something hard and rounded, as the chick must see the egg from the inside. And if you should peck through that shell (or find a door), what great and torrential light might shine through your opening at the end of space? Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?

For a moment he felt a wild hope: perhaps this really was a nightmare. Perhaps he would awake in his own bed, bathed in sweat, shaking, maybe even crying . . . but alive. Safe. Then he pushed the thought away. Its charm was deadly, its comfort fatal.

The world was full of monsters, and they were all allowed to bite the innocent and the unwary

What you love, you must love all the harder because someday it will be gone.

Things conceived by minds and made by hands can never be quite the same, even if they try their best to be identical, because they're never the same from day to day or even moment to moment.

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

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

Sooner or later even the fastest runners have to stand and fight.