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I Work To Loud Music - Hard-rock Stuff Like Ac/dc, Guns 'n Roses, And Metallica Have Always Been Particular Favorites - But For Me The Music Is Just Another Way Of Shutting The Door.

-Stephen King

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I Work To Loud

Stephen King

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I Work To Loud Music - Hard-rock Stuff Like Ac/dc, Guns 'n Roses, And Metallica Have Always Been Particular Favorites - But For Me The Music Is Just Another Way Of Shutting The Door.

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A Kid Of Your Age---any Kid---could Get Hold Of Matches If She Wanted To, Burn Up The House Or Whatever. But Not Many Do. Why Would They Want To?

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Every Man Or Woman Who Loves Him, They Hate Him Too, Because He's A Hard God, A Jealous God.

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As Always, The Blessed Relief Of Starting, A Feeling That Was Like Falling Into A Hole Filled With Bright Light. As Always, The Glum Knowledge That He Would Not Write As Well As He Wanted To Write. As Always The Terror Of Not Being Able To Finish, Of Accelerating Into A Brick Wall. As Always, The Marvelous Joyful Nervy Feeling Of Journey Begun.

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A Man With A Good Wife Is The Luckiest Of God's Creatures.

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Let Me Tell You Something My Friend. Hope Is A Dangerous Thing. Hope Can Drive A Man Insane.

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Like The Man Said, A Little Hope Never Hurt Anybody

I Think We Rarely Recognize The Fifth Business In Our Lives At The Time Those People Are Changing Us.

I Believe There Is An Unseen World All Around Us.

Life Is Like A Wheel. Sooner Or Later, It Always Come Around To Where You Started Again.

Sooner Or Later

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I Write About Things That Scare Me. I've Never Written A Snake Story In My Life. I Myself Have Never Written A Story About Snakes Because They Don't Scare Me. I Write About Rats Because They Scare The Hell Out Of Me.

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Death Is When The Monsters Get You.

Swear To Me Swear To Me That If It Isn't Dead You'll All Come Back.

And This Wasn’t Lying, Not Really. It Was Leaving Out.

You Want To Remember That While You're Judging The Book, The Book Is Also Judging You.

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As Always At These Times When He Felt Really In Need Of God The Front Of His Mind Was Serene, But The Deeper Part, Where Faith Did Constant Battle With Doubt, Was Terrified That There Would Be No Answer.

I Understand From My Own Work That Haste Makes Waste. But I Also Understand That ... The Creative Spark Dims, And Then Death Puts It Out. William Shakespeare, For Instance, Hasn’t Produced A New Play For 400 Years. That, My Friends, Is A Long Dry Spell.

Haste Makes Waste

We Fall From Womb To Tomb, From One Blackness And Toward Another, Remembering Little Of The One And Knowing Nothing Of The Other ... Except Through Faith.

Knowing Nothing

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One Only Wishes Wayne Lapierre And His Nra Board Of Directors Could Be Drafted To Some Of These Scenes, Where They Would Be Required To Put On Booties And Rubber Gloves And Help Clean Up The Blood, The Brains, And The Chunks Of Intestine Still Containing The Poor Wads Of Half-digested Food That Were Some Innocent Bystander's Last Meal.

The Scariest Moment Is Always Just Before You Start.

It Don't Matter If You Believe In God Nick, He Believes In You.

Are You Sure Self-pity Is A Luxury You Can Afford, Jack?

The Person Healed Has An Obligation To Then Ask Why— To Meditate On God's Will, And The Extraordinary Lengths To Which God Has Gone To Realize His Will.

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Time Is A Face On The Water.

I Do Believe That When We're In The Process Of Dying, That All These Emergency Circuits In The Brain Take Over. I Base What I'm Saying Not On Any Empirical Evidence. I Think It's Very Possible That When You're Dying, These Circuits Open Up, Which Would Explain This Whole White-light Phenomena - When People Clinically Die And They See Their Relatives And Stuff And Say, "hello, It's Great To See You."

I Never Had Any Friends Later On Like The Ones I Had When I Was 12 - Jesus, Did You?

Even When Love Isn't Enough...somehow It Is.

Once I Fell In Love With Books, I Fell In Love Completely.

If You Want To Play, You Gotta Pay.

When Asked, "how Do You Write?" I Invariably Answer, "one Word At A Time," And The Answer Is Invariably Dismissed. But That Is All It Is. It Sounds Too Simple To Be True, But Consider The Great Wall Of China, If You Will: One Stone At A Time, Man. That's All. One Stone At A Time. But I've Read You Can See That Motherfucker From Space Without A Telescope.

What Do You Really Want To Know? Am I Sorry For What I Did? There's Not A Day Goes By I Don't Feel Regret. Not Because I'm In Here, But Because You Think I Should Be. I Look Back On The Way I Was. A Young, Stupid Kid That Committed That Terrible Crime. I Want To Talk To Him. I Want To Try To Talk Some Sense To Him. Tell Him The Way Things Are. But I Can't. That Kid's Long Gone, And This Old Man Is All That's Left.

Above All Else, Be Consistent.

Love Didn't Grow Very Well In A Place Where There Was Only Fear

"you Need Hedges.""hedges," I Said, Bemused. "yes, Edgar." He Looked Surprised And A Little Disappointed, As If I Had Failed To Understand A Very Simple Concept. "hedges Against The Night."

By Its Very Nature, Film Is Supposed To Be An Accessible Medium To Everybody.

She Looks Like The Type That Might Freak Out. It's Something In The Eyes, Frannie. It Says If You Shoot My Sacred Cows, I'll Shoot Yours.

The Year She Had Run Fleetly Through The Dewy Grass Under The Moon- The Night Of Wine, When Dreams Condensed Out Of Thin Air Like The Nightmilk Of Fantasy.

Don't Look Back, Never Look Back. How Often Do People Tell Themselves That After An Experience That Is Exceptionally Good (or Exceptionally Bad?)? Often, I Suppose. And The Advice Usually Goes Unheeded. Humans Were Built To Look Back; That's Why We Have Tat Swivel Joint In Our Necks.

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Talent Is A Dreadfully Cheap Commodity, Cheaper Than Table Salt. What Separates The Talented Individual From The Successful One Is A Lot Of Hard Work And Study; A Constant Process Of Honing. Talent Is A Dull Knife That Will Cut Nothing Unless It Is Wielded With Great Force.

Whatever Came To Mind, Whatever Came To Hand, I Would Read.

Nobody Likes A Clown At Midnight

Want To Know The Best Thing About Teaching? Seeing That Moment When A Kid Discovers His Or Her Gift. There's No Feeling On Earth Like It.

There's A Mr. Hyde For Every Happy Jekyll Face, A Dark Face On The Other Side Of The Mirror.

I Write About Rats Because They Scare The Hell Out Of Me. I Think We Tend To Write Out Our Phobias.

Art Should Be A Place Of Hope.

So What, Ghosts Can't Hurt You. That's What I Thought Then.

Our Time Here Is Brief, Our Risk Enormous. Don't Waste The One Or Increase The Other, If You Please.

Everything In Moderation. And That Includes A Couple Of Beers A Day.

Did You Know That Dairy Queen Ice Cream Is Mostly Bubbles?

You Might Question A Winkle - A Feeling That Came To You Right Out Of The Blue - But You Didn’t Question Knowing.

Sometimes Dead Is Better

If Something Is Accessible To A Lot Of People, It's Got To Be Dumb Because Most People Are Dumb.

And In The Gunslinger's Mind, Those Words Echoed: You Dare Not.

A Book Is Like A Pump. It Gives Nothing Unless First You Give To It. You Prime A Pump With Your Own Water, You Work The Handle With Your Own Strength. You Do This Because You Expect To Get Back More Than You Give.

As We Get Older, Our Fears, In Some Way, Sharpen And Become More Personal, Because We Can No Longer - Let's Say Take A Book Like "it" Or Maybe "christine," And Say These Are Make-believe Fears.

The Muses Are Ghosts, And Sometimes They Come Uninvited.

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.

The One Thing About Kids Is That You Never Really Know Exactly What They're Thinking Or How They're Seeing. After Writing About Kids, Which Is A Little Bit Like Putting The Experience Under A Magnifying Glass, You Realize You Have No Idea How You Thought As A Kid. I've Come To The Conclusion That Most Of The Things That We Remember About Our Childhood Are Lies. We All Have Memories That Stand Out From When We Were Kids, But They're Really Just Snapshots. You Can't Remember How You Reacted Because Your Whole Head Is Different When You Stand Aside.

The Redness Was Going Out Of The Light Now, The Remains Of The Day Were A Fading Pink, The Color Of Wild Roses.

It Occured To Her That Pleasure, No Matter How Deep, Was A Ghostly, Ephemeral Thing. Love Might Make The World Go Round, But She Was Convinced It Ws The Cries Of The Badly Wounded Andf Deeply Afflicted Which Spun The Universe On The Great Glass Pole Of It's Axis.

The Worst Thing You Can Try To Do Is To Steer The Story Once It Gets Going. You Just Kind Of Follow Along And See Where It Goes. That's The Fun.

When You Own A Piano, It's Harder To Think About Moving.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Adverbs.

Lovecraft Opened The Way For Me, As He Had Done For Others Before Me

Only Two Things Happen To Writers When They Die: Either Their Work Survives, Or It Becomes Forgotten.

Here I Am, Ninety Years Old And Ready For The Cooling Board, Using A Brand New Macintosh Computer, And There You Sit, Twenty-two And Gorgeous, Fresh As A New Peach, Yet Scrawling On A Yellow Legal Pad Like An Old Maid In A Victorian Romance.

It’s Hard To Let Go. Even When What You’re Holding Onto Is Full Of Thorns, It’s Hard To Let Go. Maybe Especially Then.

Luck's The Word Those With Poor Hearts Use For Ka.

A Library Is A Place Where You Can Live A Thousand Lives. So Why Are You Waiting When You Could Be Living? Visit Your Library Today.

Writing Is Seduction.

I Get Inspiration, A Lot Of Times, From Very Commonplace Things That Just Strike A Chord And Develop Themselves In The Subconscious.

Crying Was Like Pissing Everything Out On The Ground.

Language Does Not Always Have To Wear A Tie And Lace-up Shoes.

Sometimes Human Places, Create Inhuman Monsters.

The Situation Comes First...the Characters...come Next...[then] Begin To Narrate.

Cold Start Is A Hard Start.

One Can Often Trace The Sources Of A Brand Personality - Here It Is The Advertising, There The Pack, Somewhere Else Some Physical Element Of The Product. Of Course, The Personality Is Clearest And Strongest When All The Elements Are Consistent.

Maybe There's A Whole Other Universe Where A Square Moon Rises In The Sky, And The Stars Laugh In Cold Voices, And Some Of The Triangles Have Four Sides, And Some Have Five, And Some Have Five Raised To The Fifth Power Of Sides. In This Universe There Might Grow Roses Which Sing. Everything Leads To Everything.

People With A High Tolerance For Boredom Can Get A Lot Of Thinking Done.

Making People Believe The Unbelievable Is No Trick; It's Work... Belief And Reader Absorption Come In The Details: An Overturned Tricycle In The Gutter Of An Abandoned Neighborhood Can Stand For Everything.

Stop Now Before I Kill You A Word To The Wise From Your Friend Pennywise

The Devil's Voice Is Sweet To Hear.

Superstition, Like True Love, Needs Time To Grow And Reflect Upon Itself.

And In Real Life Endings Aren't Always Neat, Whether They're Happy Endings, Or Whether They're Sad Endings.

On The Subject Of Love At First Sight, I’m With The Beatles: I Believe That It Happens All The Time.

A Great Whispering Noise Began To Rise In The Woods On Either Side Of The Tracks, As If The Forest Had Just Noticed We Were There And Was Commenting On It.

For Men, I Think, Love Is A Thing Formed Of Equal Parts Lust And Astonishment. The Astonishment Part Women Understand. The Lust Part They Only Think They Understand.

After The 9/11 Apocalypse Happened In New York City, People, Particularly New Yorkers, Who Breathed In The Ash, Or Saw The Results Of That, Have A Tendency To Keep Seeing Echoes And Having Flashbacks To It.

Kill If You Will, But Command Me Nothing!

In Spite Of The Problems He Was Having He Was Going On With His Life. There Are Thousands Who Don’t Or Won’t Or Can’t And Plenty Of Them Aren’t In Prison Either.

How To Draw A Picture (xii) Know When You're Finished, And When You Are, Put Your Pencil Or Your Paintbrush Down. All The Rest Is Only Life.

Don’t Go Beyond, No Matter How Much You Feel You Need To, Doctor. The Barrier Was Not Made To Be Broken. Remember This: There Is More Power Here Than You Know. It Is Old And Always Restless. Remember.

Just The Act Of Cooking Made Her Feel Better, Because Cooking Was Life.

It Would Perhaps Not Be Amiss To Point Out That He Had Always Tried To Be A Good Dog. He Had Tried To Do All The Things His Man And His Woman, And Most Of All His Boy, Had Asked Or Expected Of Him. He Would Have Died For Them, If That Had Been Required. He Had Never Wanted To Kill Anybody. He Had Been Struck By Something, Possibly Destiny, Or Fate, Or Only A Degenerative Nerve Disease Called Rabies. Free Will Was Not A Factor.

Fault Always Lies In The Same Place: With Him Weak Enough To Lay Blame.

The Exhilaration Was Hard To Explain. It Was A Lonely Feeling — A Somehow Melancholy Feeling. He Was Outside; He Passed On The Wings Of The Wind, And None Of The People Beyond The Brightly Lighted Squares Of Their Windows Saw Him. They Were Inside, Inside Where There Was Light And Warmth. They Didn't Know He Had Passed Them; Only He Knew. It Was A Secret Thing.

There Are All Sorts Of Theories And Ideas About What Constitutes A Good Opening Line. It's Tricky Thing, And Tough To Talk About Because I Don't Think Conceptually While I Work On A First Draft -- I Just Write. To Get Scientific About It Is A Little Like Trying To Catch Moonbeams In A Jar. But There's One Thing I'm Sure About. An Opening Line Should Invite The Reader To Begin The Story. It Should Say: Listen. Come In Here. You Want To Know About This.

I Think Uncertainty Is Good For Things. Certainty Breeds Complacency And Complacency Means That You Just Sit Somewhere In Your Nice Little Comfortable Suburban House In Michigan, Looking At Cnn And Saying, "oh, Those Poor Immigrant Children That Are All Coming Across The Border. But We Really Can't Have Them Here - That Isn't What God Wants. Let's Send Them All Back To The Drug Cartels." There's A Complacency To It.

She Didn't See Him At First. She Was Watching The Dancers. Her Color Was High, And There Were Deep Dimples At The Corners Of Her Mouth. She Looked Nine Miles Out Of Place, But He Had Never Loved Her More. This Was Willa On The Edge Of A Smile.

He Pointed Toward The Silhouettes On The Side Of The [bathrooms] Instead--black Cutout Man, Black Cutout Woman. The Man Had His Legs Apart, The Woman Had Hers Together. Pretty Much The Story Of The Human Race In Sign Language.

Outside, Daylight Was Bleeding Slowly Toward Dusk.

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.

He Removed His Unvaluable Valuables And Dumped His Shirt, Pants, And Skivvies Into A Letter Slot.

Good Days And Long Nights To Ya, Sai.

Time Heals All Wounds.

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