Stephen King

Nothing lasts forever,' Richie repeated. He looked up at Bill, and Bill saw tears cut slowly through the dirt on Richie's cheeks.'Except maybe for love,' Ben said.'And desire,' Beverly said.

By the time I was fourteen the nail in my wall would no longer support the weight of the rejection slips impaled upon it. I replaced the nail with a spike and went on writing.

When you__e still too young to shave, optimism is a perfectly legitimate response to failure.

What he knows now is that guilt isn__ the only reason people commit suicide. Sometimes you can just get bored with afternoon TV.

It__ about how some people carelessly squander what others would sell their souls to have: a healthy, pain-free body. And why? Because they__e too blind, too emotionally scarred, or too self-involved to see past the earth__ dark curve to the next sunrise. Which always comes, if one continues to draw breath.

Every man or woman who loves [God], they hate Him too, because He's a hard God, a jealous God, He Is, what He Is, and in this world He's apt to repay service with pain while those who do evil ride over the roads in Cadillac cars. Even the joy of serving Him is a bitter joy.

I'm rightly tired of the pain I hear and feel, boss. I'm tired of bein on the road, lonely as a robin in the rain. Not never havin no buddy to go on with or tell me where we's comin from or goin to or why. I'm tired of people bein ugly to each other. It feels like pieces of glass in my head. I'm tired of all the times I've wanted to help and couldn't. I'm tired of bein in the dark. Mostly it's the pain. There's too much. If I could end it, I would. But I can't.

Not everybody believes in ghosts, but I do. Do you know what they are, Trisha?She had shaken her head slowly.Men and women who can't get over their past . . . That's what ghosts are.

What our parents tell us when we are small seldom goes ignored, no matter how foolish it may be

I think houses live their own lives along a time-stream that's different from the ones upon which their owners float, one that's slower. In a house, especially an old one, the past is closer.

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

At the end of almost every AA meeting, someone read the Promises. One of these was 'We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it'. Dan thought he would always regret the past, but he had quit trying to shut the door. Why bother, when it would just come open again? The fucking had no latch, let alone a lock.

When it comes to the past, everyone writes fiction.

It's best to be ruthless with the past.

The word is only a representation of the meaning, even at its best, writing almost always falls short of full meaning.

If God gives you something you can do, why in God's name wouldn't you do it?

Go with your bad self.

I don't want to see it anymore. It's lousy. And it's a cheat. You build it all around something... set yourself on something... and then you don't want it. Isn't it too bad the great truths are all such lies?