Stephen King

“It was not fair, it was not fair, it was not fair. So cried his child's heart, and then his child's heart died a little. For that is also the way of the world.”

We spread the time as we can, but in the end the world takes it all back.

You doom yourselves, Susannah. You seem positively bent on it, and the root is always the same: your faith fails you, and you replace it with rational thought. But there is no love in thought, nothing that lasts in deduction, only death in rationalism.

I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

All of your lies will cross your eyes.

Dead, like diamonds, was forever.

Definition of a wanderer: a guy who's always looking beyond.

“What if I fall?', Tim cried.

“A person’s never too old for stories. Man and boy, girl and woman, never too old. We live for them."

ROLAND! I LOVE THEE!

I have no opinion. No, none at all. Opinion is politics, and politics is an evil which has caused many a fellow to be hung while he's still young and pretty.

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.