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My Wife Says, And I Agree With Her, That What Would Be Really Great For Maine Would Be To Legalize Dope Completely And Set Up Dope Stores The Way That There Are State-run Liquor Stores. You Could Get Your Acapulco Gold Or Your Whatever It Happened To Be - Your Augusta Gold Or Your Bangor Gold. And People Would Come From All The Other States To Buy It, And There Could Be A State Tax On It. Then Everybody In Maine Could Have A Cadillac.

-Stephen King

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My Wife Says, And

Stephen King

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My Wife Says, And I Agree With Her, That What Would Be Really Great For Maine Would Be To Legalize Dope Completely And Set Up Dope Stores The Way That There Are State-run Liquor Stores. You Could Get Your Acapulco Gold Or Your Whatever It Happened To Be - Your Augusta Gold Or Your Bangor Gold. And People Would Come From All The Other States To Buy It, And There Could Be A State Tax On It. Then Everybody In Maine Could Have A Cadillac.

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But I Think There Are A Set Of Experiences That Turn A Potential Writer Into A Working Writer, And Then There Are Places In Your Life Were You Start To Recognize What You Want To Do.

Places In Your Life

The Definition Of An Asshole Is Someone Who Doesn't Believe What He Is Seeing.

Roland Had Taught Him That Self-deception Was Nothing But Pride In Disguise, An Indulgence To Be Denied.

Say Your Name Over Two Hundred Times And Discover You Are No One.

Politics Always Change. Stories Never Do.

I'd Like To Take A Motorcycle Trip Across Europe, Maybe Even Across China. Of Course I'd Also Like To Broker A Peace Agreement Between The Israelis And The Palestinians, But It's Important To Put Ceilings On One's Ambitions.

Above All Else, Be Consistent.

And Suddenly It Didn't Seem To Matter Any More, Nothing Would Matter If She Could Turn Over, Turn Over And See The Stars, Turn Over And Look Once And Die.

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

A Dimwit Thinks Nothing Is Funny Unless It's Mean.

As Far As Where I Go When I Die, The Concept That I Am Simple Going To Flick Out, Like A Light Bulb, To Me Is Not Only Spiritually Impossible To Believe, But Logically It Is Laughable - The Idea That We Simply Die And Nothing Happens.

The First Thing Was To Get Down To Addie Richardson's Henhouse, And That Was A Goodish Way, Four Or Five Miles. She Found Herself Wondering If The Lord Was Going To Send Her An Eagle To Fly Her Those Four Miles, Or Send Elijah In His Fiery Chariot To Give Her A Lift. Blasphemy," She Told Herself Complacently. "the Lord Provides Strength, Not Taxicabs.

Sure, We Need The Gypsies. We Always Have. Because If You Don't Have Someone To Run Out Of Town Once In A While, How Are You Going To Know You Yourself Belong There?

Kill If You Will, But Command Me Nothing!

I Would Say Plotting Is The Most Difficult Thing For Me. Characterization Is Only Hard Because Sometimes I Feel I Get So Interested In It That I Want To Talk Too Much About The Characters And That Slows The Story Down. So I Say, "hey, People Want To Find Out What's Going To Happen Next, They Don't Want To Listen To You Spout Off About This Or That Person." But I Think Even The Bad Guy Deserves To Tell His Side Of The Story.

The Scariest Moment Is Always Just Before You Start.

You Cannot Hope To Sweep Someone Else Away By The Force Of Your Writing Until It Has Been Done To You.

This Is A Dreadful Thing To Say, But I Have Wondered In My Darker Hours That, If Everything Were Legal, Wouldn't It Be Kind Of A Darwinian Solution To A Lot Of Problems? Who Are The Bikies That You See Who Are Cruisin' Around With No Helmet Or With A Hat Turned Around Like That Yoyo In Cheap Trick? They're Dummies, And If They Splatter Their Brains All Over The Sidewalk, They're Not Going To Be Collecting Food Stamps.

Without Story Books Is Like A Person With No Soul.

And People Who Don’t Dream, Who Don’t Have Any Kind Of Imaginative Life, They Must… They Must Go Nuts. I Can’t Imagine That.

Sometimes There Is Absolutely No Difference At All Between Salvation And Damnation.

Stories Are Like Relics, Part Of An Undiscovered Preexisting World. The Writer's Job Is To Use The Tools In His Or Her Toolbox To Get As Much Of Each One Out Of The Ground Intact As Possible.

If You Want To Play, You Gotta Pay.

If Being A Kid Is About Learning How To Live, Then Being A Grown-up Is About Learning How To Die.

I Guess When You Turn Off The Main Road, You Have To Be Prepared To See Some Funny Houses.

There Is The Watchmaker Theory That God Wound Up The Universe And Let It Tick. That May Be. Or It May Be That He Takes A Hand In Things From Time To Time. But Whatever It Is, I Am Sure That There Is Something Out There.

I Always Drank, From When It Was Legal For Me To Drink. And There Was Never A Time For Me When The Goal Wasn't To Get As Hammered As I Could Possibly Afford To. I Never Understood Social Drinking, That's Always Seemed To Me Like Kissing Your Sister.

Home Is Watching The Moon Rise Over The Open, Sleeping Land And Having Someone You Can Call To The Window, So You Can Look Together. Home Is Where You Dance With Others, And Dancing Is Life.

There’s Always A Choice. That’s God’s Way, Always Will Be. Your Will Is Still Free. Do As You Will. There’s No Set Of Leg-irons On You. But... This Is What God Wants Of You.

I Think The Best Writers Are Voracious Readers Who Pick Up The Cadences And The Feel Of Narration Through A Number Of Different Books. And You Begin By Maybe Copying The Style Of Writers That Really Knocked You Out.

I Understand That Each One Of Us Works At A Different Speed, And Has A Slightly Different Process. I Understand That These Writers Are Painstaking, Wanting Each Sentence-each Word-to Carry Weight... I Know It’s Not Laziness, But Respect For The Work, And I Understand From My Own Work That Haste Makes Waste. But I Also Understand That Life Is Short, And That In The End, None Of Us Is Prolific. 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

If There's One American Belief I Hold Above All Others, It's That Those Who Would Set Themselves Up In Judgment On Matters Of What Is "right" And What Is "best" Should Be Given No Rest; That They Should Have To Defend Their Behavior Most Stringently. ... As A Nation, We've Been Through Too Many Fights To Preserve Our Rights Of Free Thought To Let Them Go Just Because Some Prude With A Highlighter Doesn't Approve Of Them

When I Was Younger, I Used To Vacillate Between Thinking Love Was This Great And Glorious Mystery And Thinking It Was Just Something A Bunch Of Hollywood Move Producers Made Up To Sell More Tickets In The Depression, When Dish Night Kind Of Played Out." Eddie Laughed. Now I Think That All Of Us Are Born With A Hole In Our Hearts, And We Go Around Looking For The Person Who Can Fill It. You...eddie, You Fill Me Up.

When You Start, It's Very Cold, An Impossible Task. But Then Maybe The Characters Start To Take On A Little Bit Of Life, Or The Story Takes A Turn That You Don't Expect ... With Me That Happens A Lot Because I Don't Outline, I Just Have A Vague Notion. So It's Always Felt Like Less Of A Made Thing And More Of A Found Thing. That's Exciting. That's A Thrill.

What We Like To Think Of Ourselves And What We Really Are Rarely Have Much In Common.

He Sat Upon His Throne, Which Is Made Of Skulls.

Waiting Rooms Were Made For Books-of Course! But So Are Theater Lobbies Before The Show, Long And Boring Checkout Lines, And Everyone's Favorite, The John.

I Looked At The Ceiling And Wished This Life Was Over. This Unhappy Life That Had Started Out So Confidently. I Thought I Would Sleep No More That Night But Eventually I Did. In The End We Always Wear Out Our Worries. That's What Wire Man Says.

I Love Music, And I Can Play A Little. But Anyone Can See The Difference Between Someone Who's Talented And Someone That's Not.

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.

His Mother Called Such People Ignorant And Superstitious, But His Father Only Shook His Head Slowly And Puffed His Pipe And Said That Sometimes Old Stories Had A Grain Or Two Of Truth In Them And It Was Best Not To Take Chances. It Was Why, He Said, He Crossed Himself Whenever A Black Cat Crossed His Path.

Your Pimples Are The Lord's Way Of Chastising You. Now Eat Your Pie.

I Did A Couple Of Writing Seminars In Canada With High School Kids. These Were The Bright Kids; They All Have Computers, But They Can't Spell. Because Spell-check Won't [help] You If You Don't Know Through From Threw. I Told Them, "if You Can Read In The 21st Century, You Own The World." Because You Learn To Write From Reading.

It's Actually Against My Religion To Laugh At Men Who Are Toting Guns.

Everything's A Lot Tougher When It's For Real. That's When You Choke. When It's For Real.

Terror?often Arises From A Pervasive Sense Of Disestablishment; That Things Are In The Unmaking.

It Might Be That The Biggest Division In The World Isn't Men And Women But Folks Who Like Cats And Folks Who Like Dogs" - (l.t.'s Theory Of Pets)

Symbolism Exists To Adorn And Enrich, Not To Create An Artificial Sense Of Profundity.

In Many Cases When A Reader Puts A Story Aside Because It 'got Boring,' The Boredom Arose Because The Writer Grew Enchanted With His Powers Of Description And Lost Sight Of His Priority, Which Is To Keep The Ball Rolling.

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.

I Don't Make Movies. I Don't Feel That I Have To Have Artistic Control. Part Of This Comes From The Fact That The Book Lives On No Matter What Hollywood Does To Your Novel In Terms Of A Film. Now, You Try To Be Careful Who You Allow To Do Your Film Because Nobody Wants Their Novel To Become A Turkey Movie. But, On The Other Hand, It Is A Crapshot Anyway, Because Even The Best People Can Make A Bad Film.

Lawyers Are Fleas On The Hide Of Human Nature.

Wherever You Write Is Supposed To Be A Little Bit Of A Refuge, A Place Where You Can Get Away From The World. The More Closed In You Are, The More You're Forced Back On Your Own Imagination.

Time Takes It All, Whether You Want It To Or Not. Time Takes It All, Time Bears It Away, And In The End There Is Only Darkness. Sometimes We Find Others In That Darkness, And Sometimes We Lose Them There Again.

A Person Could See A Lot Without Ever Leaving His Own Living Room. Especially If He Had The Right Tools.

If You Don’t Have The Time To Do Something Right, Where Are You Going To Find The Time To Fix It?

True Love, Like Any Other Strong And Addicting Drug, Is Boring — Once The Tale Of Encounter And Discovery Is Told, Kisses Quickly Grow Stale And Caresses Tiresome… Except, Of Course, To Those Who Share The Kisses, Who Give And Take The Caresses While Every Sound And Color Of The World Seems To Deepen And Brighten Around Them. As With Any Other Strong Drug, True First Love Is Really Only Interesting To Those Who Have Become Its Prisoners. And, As Is True Of Any Other Strong And Addicting Drug, True First Love Is Dangerous.

Marriage Is Referred To In The Bible As “mystical Union,” And It Really Is In The Sense That Two People Who Don’t Know Each Other Get Together. I’m Always Interested In How Much You Find Out About The Other Person And How Much You Don’t Find Out.

I Never Saw Any Of My Dad's Stories. My Mother Said He Had Piles And Piles Of Manuscripts.

I Don't Like The Idea That I Am Going To Come Back As An Ant Or A Sparrow If I Don't Get Along In The Great Karma Of Life.

Humans Were Built To Look Back; That's Why We Have That Swivel Joint In Our Necks

No One Ever Really Pays For Betrayal In Silver....the Price Of Any Betrayal Always Comes Due In Flesh.

The Death Of The Music Business Was Insane, But Audio Recordings Have Been Around Now For Maybe 120 Years. Books Have Been Around For, What, Nine Centuries? So They're More Entrenched Than Music.

Books And Movies Are Like Apples And Oranges. They Both Are Fruit, But Taste Completely Different.

The Three Is Really Wonderful. A Mix Of Michael Crichton And Shirley Jackson, Hard To Put Down And Vastly Entertaining.

I Always Felt That Organized Religion Was Just Basically A Theological Insurance Scam Where They're Saying If You Spend Time With Us, Guess What, You're Going To Live Forever, You're Going To Go To Some Other Plain Where You're Going To Be So Happy, You'll Just Be Happy All The Time, Which Is Also Kind Of A Scary Idea To Me.

Too Often, In Novels That Are Speculative, God Is A Kind Of Kryptonite, And That's About All That It Is, And It Goes Back To Dracula, Where Someone Dumps A Crucifix In Count Dracula's Face, And He Pulls Away And Runs Back Into His House. That's Not Religion. That's Some Kind Of Juju, Like A Talisman.

A Person Can Go Along Quite Awhile If They Get A Good Day Every Once And Again.

No Knowledge Obtained Without Risk

The Shining. It Was A Good Name, A Comforting Name, Because She Had Always Thought Of It As A Dark Thing.

I Write To Find Out What I Think.

We're All Going To Die; I'm Just Trying To Make It A Little More Interesting.

Time Is A Keyhole.... We Sometimes Bend And Peer Through It. And The Wind We Feel On Our Cheeks When We Do--the Wind That Blows Through The Keyhole--is The Breath Of All The Living Universe.

Memory Is The Basis Of Every Journey.

The Overlook Was Still Not Done With Him. Written On The Mirror, Not In Lipstick But In Blood, Was A Single Word: Redrum

We Never Know Which Lives We Influence, Or When, Or Why. Not Until The Future Eats The Present, Anyway. We Know When It's Too Late.

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

Words Create Sentences; Sentences Create Paragraphs; Sometimes Paragraphs Quicken And Begin To Breathe.

And Now, All These Years Later, It Seem To Him That The Most Horrible Fact Of Human Existence Was That Broken Hearts Mended

The Most Important Things Are The Hardest To Say. They Are The Things You Get Ashamed Of, Because Words Diminish Them.

Don't Let The Sun Go Down Without Saying Thank You To Someone, And Without Admitting To Yourself That Absolutely No One Gets This Far Alone.

At The Time We’re Stuck In It, Like Hostages Locked In A Turkish Bath, High School Seems The Most Serious Business In The World To Just About All Of Us. It’s Not Until The Second Or Third Class Reunion That We Start Realizing How Absurd The Whole Thing Was.

I Drink A Lot Of Beer, And That's The Drug Of Choice. You Find The Drug That Works For You. I Know, For Instance, This Guy Named Harlan Ellison - And He's Not Alone - Who's Very Proud Of The Fact That He Doesn't Put Dope Into His Body. He Tries Not To Put Additives Into His Body, Or Anything Like That. But He Can Afford To Do That Because Harlan's Drug Of Choice Is Harlan.

Pain Is The Biggest Power Of Love.

Andy Dufresne: 'that's The Beauty Of Music. They Can't Get That From You...haven't You Ever Felt That Way About Music?' Red: 'i Played A Mean Harmonica As A Younger Man. Lost Interest In It Though. Didn't Make Much Sense In Here.' Andy: 'here's Where It Makes The Most Sense. You Need It So You Don't Forget.' Red: 'forget?' Andy: 'forget That...there Are Places In This World That Aren't Made Out Of Stone. That There's Something Inside...that They Can't Get To, That They Can't Touch. That's Yours.' Red: 'what're You Talking About?' Andy: 'hope.'

It Means That No Blue Ribbon Is Forever. Someday - If The World Doesn't Explode Itself In The Meantime - Someone Will Run A Two-minute Mile In The Olympics. It May Take A Hundred Years Or A Thousand, But It Will Happen. Because There Is No Ultimate Blue Ribbon. There Is Zero, And There Is Eternity, And There Is Mortality, But There Is No Ultimate.

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

High School Isn't A Very Important Place. When You're Going You Think It's A Big Deal, But When It's Over Nobody Really Thinks It Was Great Unless They're Beered Up.

A Life Without Love Is Like A Tree Without Fruit.

Inspirational Love

Pray For Rain All You Like, But Dig A Well As You Do It.

Working With Him Was Sort Of Like Trying To Defuse A Bomb With Somebody Standing Behind You And Every Now And Then Clashing A Pair Of Cymbals Together. In A Word, Upsetting.

I Don't Really Map Anything Out. I Just Let It Happen [while Writing]. But Once It Happens, It's Always There. If It's Laid, It's Played. If I Get To Page 300 And It's Not Working, I Junk It.

Late Last Night And The Night Before, Tommyknockers, Tommyknockers Knocking On My Door. I Wanna Go Out, Don't Know If I Can 'cuz I'm So Afraid Of The Tommyknocker Man.

Belief In The Supernatural Or Belief In Wild Talents Like Precognition And Telepathy And Telekinesis And Things Like That, It Seems To Me That Belief In Those Things Is Just Very, Very Freeing.

What Happens To The Wide-eyed Observer When The Window Between Reality And Unreality Breaks And The Glass Begins To Fly?

It's Best To Have Your Tools With You. If You Don't, You're Apt To Find Something You Didn't Expect And Get Discouraged.

If We Don't Have Each Other, We Go Crazy With Loneliness. When We Do, We Go Crazy With Togetherness.

The Harder You Had To Work To Open A Package, The Less You Ended Up Caring About What Was Inside.

We Lie Best When We Lie To Ourselves.

Terrible Thing To Live In Fear. Brooks Hatlen Knew It. Knew It All Too Well. All I Want Is To Be Back Where Things Make Sense. Where I Won't Have To Be Afraid All The Time.

I Was Built With A Love Of The Night And The Unquiet Coffin.

Good Books Are For Consideration After, Too.

They Were Still All Beautiful And There Was Still Enchantment And Wonder, But She Had Crossed A Line And Now The Fairy Tale Was Green With Corruption And Evil.

The Trust Of The Innocent Is The Liar's Most Useful Tool.

We Fool Ourselves So Much We Could Do It For A Living.

There May Be Fairies, There May Be Elves, But God Helps Those Who Help Themselves.

I Go Where The Story Leads. And, Sometimes, It Is A Little Bit Outrageous. And I Relish That. I Sort Of Want To Be As Much On The Edge As I Can.

Sorry Is The Kool-aid Of Human Emotions. It's What You Say When You Spill A Cup Of Coffee Or Throw A Gutter Ball When You're Bowling With The Girls In The League. True Sorrow Is As Rare As True Love.

I’m Convinced That Fear Is At The Root Of Most Bad Writing. Dumbo Got Airborne With The Help Of A Magic Feather; You May Feel The Urge To Grasp A Passive Verb Or One Of Those Nasty Adverbs For The Same Reason. Just Remember Before You Do That Dumbo Didn’t Need The Feather; The Magic Was In Him.

Memories Are Contrary Things; If You Quit Chasing Them And Turn Your Back, They Often Return On Their Own.

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.

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.

Most Books About Writing Are Filled With Bullshit. Fiction Writers, Present Company Included, Don’t Understand Very Much About What They Do—not Why It Works When It’s Good, Not Why It Doesn’t When It’s Bad.

She Did Not Know If Her Gift Came From The Lord Of Light Or Of Darkness, And Now, Finally Finding That She Didn't Care Which, She Wad Overcome With Almost Indescribable Relief, As If A Huge Weight, Long Carried, Had Slipped From Her Shoulders.

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

Life Isn't A Support System For Art. It's The Other Way Around.

Support Systems

Little By Little, Writers Develop Their Own Styles, Each As Unique As A Fingerprint.

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.

A Short Story Is A Different Thing All Together - A Short Story Is Like A Kiss In The Dark From A Stranger.

You Can Approach The Act Of Writing With Nervousness, Excitement, Hopefulness, Or Even Despair - The Sense That You Can Never Completely Put On The Page What's In Your Mind And Heart. You Can Come To The Act With Your Fists Clenched And Your Eyes Narrowed, Ready To Kick Ass And Take Down Names. You Can Come To It Because You Want A Girl To Marry You Or Because You Want To Change The World. Come To It Any Way But Lightly. Let Me Say It Again: You Must Not Come Lightly To The Blank Page.

Now Panic Beats And Flutters Inside My Skull Like A Flock Of Starlings Locked In An Attic.

It Didn´t Occur To Me Until Later That There´s Another Truth, Very Simple: Greed In A Good Cause Is Still Greed.

The Mind Can Calculate, But The Spirit Yearns, And The Heart Knows What The Heart Knows

Oh, There Were All Sorts Of Things To Wonder About, But The Truth Was Simple: Here Stood This Door Alone On An Endless Stretch Of Beach, And It Was For Only One Of Two Things: Opening Or Leaving Closed.

I Stood For Almost An Hour In A Line Of Shuffling, Bitter - Eyed Late Mailers (christmas Is Such A Carefree, Low - Pressure Time - That's One Of The Things I Love About It).

You See Something, Then It Clicks With Something Else, And It Will Make A Story. But You Never Know When It's Going To Happen.

...stopping A Piece Of Work Just Because It's Hard, Either Emotionally Or Imaginatively, Is A Bad Idea. Sometimes You Have To Go On When You Don't Feel Like It, And Sometimes You're Doing Good Work When If Feels Like All You're Managing Is To Shovel Sh*t From A Sitting Position.

It's Only A Little Secret, But Having A Secret Makes Me Feel Better. Like A Human Being Again.

The Important Question Has Nothing To Do With Whether The Talk In Your Story Is Sacred Or Profane; The Only Question Is How It Rings On The Page And In Your Ear. If You Expect It To Ring True, Then You Must Talk Yourself. Even More Important, You Must Shut Up And Listen To Others Talk.

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

Friends Don’t Spy; True Friendship Is About Privacy, Too.

True Friendship

Show Me A Man Or A 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, But Human Society Was Made In The Image Of His Opposite Number, And Is Always Trying To Get Back Home.

Falling In Love

She Can't Help It,' He Said. 'she's Got The Soul Of A Poet And The Emotional Makeup Of A Junkyard Dog.

Nothing Is Ever Lost, Sarah. Nothing That Can't Be Found.

I've Put Men To Death-men With Supposedly Immortal Souls-that Looked Dumber Than That Mouse

Guys, Gals, Now Hear This: No One Wants To Take Away Your Hunting Rifles. No One Wants To Take Away Your Shotguns. No One Wants To Take Away Your Revolvers, And No One Wants To Take Away Your Automatic Pistols, As Long As Said Pistols Hold No More Than Ten Rounds. If You Can't Kill A Home Invader (or Your Wife, Up In The Middle Of The Night To Get A Snack From The Fridge) With Ten Shots, You Need To Go Back To The Local Shooting Range.

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.

The Old Sleep Poorly. Perhaps They Stand Watch.

As For The End Of The Universe…i Say Let It Come As It Will, In Ice, Fire, Or Darkness. What Did The Universe Ever Do For Me That I Should Mind Its Welfare?

Read A Lot, Write A Lot Is The Great Commandment.

There Are, Occasionally, Writers Who Are Able To Combine Both Story And Style. They Are, Of Course, The Best. You Get A Spectacular View And You Also Get To Look At It From The Backseat Of A Chauffeur-driven Cadillac. In The Field Of Fantasy, Those Writers Able To Combine Story-as-narration With Story-as-style Are Even Rarer. But There Are A Few...the Late Theodore Sturgeon, The Early Ray Bradbury...and Richard Christian Matheson. A Brilliant Chip Off The Old Block.

I Think Most Of Us Can Remember From Our Own Childhood, Just In The Disney Cartoons, Things That Frightened Us Profoundly. For Me It Was Bambi, The Scene When The Forest Was On Fire. That Was Something I Had Nightmares About. I Can't Imagine Being A Little Kid Of Eight And Seeing Night Of The Living Dead With Living Corpses Eating The Flesh Of Living People.

For Some Reason California's Always Been Where The Struggle Is About How Much Authority You Can Impose On People's Private Lives. It Seems To Show Up There Most Clearly. They Had A Helmet Law For Motorcycles In California And The Bikies Were Saying Things Like, "it Restricts My Vision. I Can't Hear What My Bike's Doing. If It Was On Fire I Wouldn't Know It Until My Ass Caught." And At The Bottom Line What The Bikies Were Saying Was, "look, It's My Goddamn Head And If I Want To Splatter My Brains All Over The Guardrails On The Coast Highway, Super For Me."

God Always Punishes Us For What We Can't Imagine.

I'm Having A Magenta Day. Not Just Red, But Magenta!

Cut Him. Cut Him While I Stand Here And Watch. I Want To See The Blood Flow. Don't Make Me Tell You Twice.

I Have Always Felt A Little Bit Uncomfortable With Question [why I'm Write These Stories]. It's Not A Question That You Would Ask A Guy That Writes Detective Stories Or The Guy That Writes Mystery Stories, Or Westerns, Or Whatever. But It Is Asked Of The Writer Of Horror Stories Because It Seems That There Is Something Nasty About Our Love For Horror Stories, Or Boogies, Ghosts And Goblins, Demons And Devils.

If You Want To Be A Writer, You Must Do Two Things Above All Others: Read A Lot And Write A Lot. There's No Way Around These Two Things That I'm Aware Of, No Shortcut.

Time Heals All Wounds.

No One Can Tell What Goes On In Between The Person You Were And The Person You Become. No One Can Chart That Blue And Lonely Section Of Hell. There Are No Maps Of The Change. You Just Come Out The Other Side. Or You Don't.

Not Writing Would Be Like Going The Rest Of Your Life Without Having Dreams.

It's A Poorboy Sanditch,' Roland Said. 'with Lots Of Mayo, Whatever That Is. I'd Want A Sauce That Didn't Look Quite So Much Like Come, Myself, But May It Do Ya Fine.

Theres A Constant Struggle Going On About How Much Will Be Illegal And How Much You Will Be Free To Take. Can We Open The Pharmacies? Can We Put Valium And Percodan And Those Sorts Of Things Out On The Shelves? I Wouldn't Take It. I Don't Know.

You Don't Always Talk With Your Mouth. Sometimes What You Say With Your Mouth Hardly Matters At All. You Have To Signify

Some Guys-a Lot Of Guys-don't Believe What They Are Seeing, Especially If It Gets In The Way Of What They Want To Eat Or Drink Or Believe. Me, I Don't Believe In God. But If I Saw Him, I Would. I Wouldn't Just Go Around Saying, "jesus, That Was A Great Special Effect." The Definition Of An Asshole Is A Guy Who Doesn't Believe What He's Seeing.

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.

There Are Books Full Of Great Writing That Don't Have Very Good Stories. Read Sometimes For The Story... Don't Be Like The Book-snobs Who Won't Do That. Read Sometimes For The Words--the Language. Don't Be Like The Play-it-safers Who Won't Do That. But When You Find A Book That Has Both A Good Story And Good Words, Treasure That Book.

When You're Six, Most Of Your Bingo Balls Are Still Floating Around In The Draw-tank.

It's A Long Way Back To Eden, Sweetheart, So Don't Sweat The Small Stuff.

Life Is A Wheel, And If You Wait Long Enough, It Always Comes Back Around To Where It Started.

The Book Is Not The Important Part. The Book Is The Delivery System. The Important Part Is The Story And The Talent.

Life Turns On A Dime. Sometimes Towards Us, But More Often It Spins Away, Flirting And Flashing As It Goes: So Long, Honey, It Was Good While It Lasted, Wasn’t It?

What If There Were No Grownups? Suppose The Whole Idea Of Grownups Was An Illusion? What If Their Money Was Really Just Playground Marbles, Their Business Deals No More Than Baseball-card Trades, Their Wars Only Games Of Guns In The Park? What If They Were All Still Snotty-nosed Kids Inside Their Suits And Dresses? Christ, That Couldn't Be, Could It? It Was Too Horrible To Think About.

As A Species We're Fundamentally Insane. Put More Than Two Of Us In A Room, We Pick Sides And Start Dreaming Up Reasons To Kill One Another. Why Do You Think We Invented Politics And Religion?

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.

Until We See Each Other Again, Keep Your Head Together, Read Some Good Books, Be Useful, Be Happy.

When You Write A Book, You Spend Day After Day Scanning And Identifying The Trees. When You’re Done, You Have To Step Back And Look At The Forest.

A Critical Assumption Is Sometimes Made That [grisham, Clancey, Crichton & Myself] Have Access To Some Mystical Vulgate That Other (and Often Better) Writers Cannot Find Or Will Not Deign To Use. I Doubt If This Is True. Nor Do I Believe The Contention Of Some Popular Novelists... That Thier Success Is Based On Literary Merit -- That The Public Understands True Greatness In Ways The Tight-a**ed, Consumed-by-jealousy Literary Establishment Cannot. This Idea Is Ridiculous, A Product Of Vanity And Insecurity.

True Sorrow Is As Rare As True Love.

You Learned To Accept, Or You Ended Up In A Small Room Writing Letters Home With Crayolas.

If You Can't Laugh When Things Go Bad--laugh And Put On A Little Carnival--then You're Either Dead Or Wishing You Were.

I Know Your Mother Lives In Your Head - Almost Everyone's Mother Does, I Guess - But You Can't Let Her Have Her Way On This One

Whenever Anything Important Happens In America, They Have To Gold-plate It, Like Baby Shoes. That Way You Can Forget It.

So Where Do The Ideas-the Salable Ideas-come From? They Come From My Nightmares. Not The Night-time Variety, As A Rule, But The Ones That Hide Just Beyond The Doorway That Separates The Conscious From The Unconscious.

The King Is In His Tower, Eating Bread And Honey. The Breakers In The Basement, Making All The Money.

He Was A Romantic In His Own Harsh Way…yet He Was Also Realist Enough To Know That Some Times Love Actually Did Conquer All.

When The Time Is Gone, You Can Never Get It Back.

And All That Weirdness Isn't Just Going On Outside. It's In You Too, Right Now, Growing In The Dark Like Magic Mushrooms. Call It The Thing In The Cellar. Call It The Blow Lunch Factor. Call It The Loony Tunes File. I Think Of It As My Private Dinosaur, Huge, Slimy, And Mindless, Stumbling Around In The Stinking Swamp Of My Subconscious, Never Finding A Tar Pit Big Enough To Hold It.

Home Is Where You Dance With Others, And Dancing Is Life.

If There Is Love, Smallpox Scars Are As Pretty As Dimples. - Japanese Proverb

Japanese Proverbs

Why Don't We All Just Go Crazy When We Know Were Going To Croak? Because The Mind's A Monkey. You Put Things In Departments And You Go Ahead. You Go On And Plan For The Future And Assume That The Future's Going To Work Out Okay. Yet We Know That Sooner Or Later We're All Going To Be Eating Worms, Whether It's Fifty Years Or Sixty. It Might Be Tomorrow. It Might Happen Today.

But Writers Invite Ghosts, Maybe; Along With Actors And Artists, They Are The Only Totally Accepted Mediums Of Our Society. They Make Worlds That Never Were, Populate Them With People Who Never Existed, And Then Invite Us To Join Them In Their Fantasies. And We Do It, Don't We? Yes. We Pay To Do It.

American Grammar Doesn't Have The Sturdiness Of British Grammar, But It Has Its Own Scruffy Charm.

Money Talks, Bullshit Walks.

Schizoid Behavior Is A Pretty Common Thing In Children. It's Accepted, Because All We Adults Have This Unspoken Agreement That Children Are Lunatics.

The Turtle Couldn't Help Us.

I've Said It Before, And I'll Say It Again. When You Find Something At Which You Have Talent, You Do That Thing (what Ever It Is) Until Your Fingers Bleed Or Your Eyes Pop Out Of Your Head.

All I Ask Is That You Do As Well As You Can, And Remember That, While To Write Adverbs Is Human, To Write He Said Or She Said Is Divine.

It Was Really Amazing The Number Of Hard Hits From Which A Mind Could Recover.

We Never Know Which Lives We Influence, Or When, Or Why.

There's Nothing Like Stories On A Windy Night When Folks Have Found A Warm Place In A Cold World.

Love Among The Ruins... I'll Tell You Something, My Friend: Weird Love's Better Than No Love At All.

It's Funny How Close The Past Is, Sometimes. Sometimes It Seems As If You Could Almost Reach Out And Touch It. Only Who Really Wants To?

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.

C-c-can You Get Bones In Your Buh-buh-brain?' Bill Asked. This Was Turning Into The Most Interesting Conversation He'd Had In Weeks.

Interesting Conversation

A Place Is Yours When You Know Where All The Roads Go.

The Idea That Creative Endeavor And Mind-altering Substances Are Entwined Is One Of The Great Pop-intellectual Myths Of Our Time.

Our Memories Have Voices, Too. Often Sad Ones That Clamor Like Raised Arms In The Dark.

My Wife Has Told Me Since That I Was Hungover Every Mornng Until About Two In The Afternoon, And From Five Until Midnight I Was Drunk Out Of My Mind. So She Says There Was This Period Of About Three Hours When She Could Talk To Me Like A Rational Human Being.

The Tower. He Would Come To The Dark Tower And There He Would Sing Their Names; There He Would Sing Their Names; There He Would Sing All Their Names. The Sun Stained The East A Dusky Rose, And At Last Roland, No Longer The Last Gunslinger But One Of The Last Three, Slept And Dreamed His Angry Dreams Through Which There Ran Only That One Soothing Blue Thread: There I Will Sing All Their Names!

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