Stephen King

Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot if difference. They don't have to makes speeches. Just believing is usually enough.

Valuables. That was a hot one, Richards thought, unbuttoning his shirt. He had an empty wallet with a few pictures of Sheila and Cathy, a receipt for a shoe sole he had replaced at the local cobbler's six months ago, a keyring with no keys on it except for the doorkey, a baby sock that he did not remember putting in there, and the package of Blams he had gotten from the machine.

She could smell damprot, high, sweet, and cloying. She could smell madness like dead vegetables in a dark cellar.

He didn__ like the way things were going.There were bad omens in the wind, evil portents like bats fluttering in the dark loft of a deserted barn.

Time takes it all whether you want it to or not, time takes it all. Time bares it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.

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.

People who leave their drugs in a bathroom the guests use are just asking for trouble.

You can never be too thin or too rich. And if you don't believe it you were never really fat or really poor.

By the time he was done with the deer it had been dark three hours and his bad leg was singing 'Ave Maria'.

She ran out of her marriage the way a woman can run out of a pair of sandals when she decides to let go and really dash.

You have come from the shadow of the heroin and the shadow of your brother, my friend. Come from the shadow of yourself, if you dare.

... good advice was sometimes easier to give than receive.

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.

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

We're not quite ending where we began, but close enough.Close enough.

But sooner or later the last good time would come around. It does for all of us.

She looked beautiful,standing there barefoot in her faded jeans. I wanted to take her in my arms, and lift her, and carry her into some untroubled future.Instead, I left her where she was. That's not the world we live in, she'd said, and how right she was,

When you__etwenty-one, life is a roadmap.It__ only when you get to betwenty-five or so that youbegin to suspect you__e beenlooking at the map upsidedown, and not until you__eforty are you entirely sure.