How long alone with your thoughts in an endless field of white? And then, when a billion eternities have passed, the crashing return of light and form and body. Who wouldn’t go insane?
All of Mid-World had become one vast haunted mansion in these strange latter days; all of Mid-World had become The Drawers; all of Mid-World had become a waste land, haunting and haunted.
Stupid to keep cash, there was no reason for it other than his dislike of credit cards and checks and stocks and instruments of transfer, all the tempting chains that tied people to America’s overwhelming and ultimately destructive debt-and-spend machine. But the cash might be his salvation. Cash could be replaced. The notebooks, over a hundred and fifty of them, could not.
Crazy was a hard state to define.
Those kids just wanted to rock, and most of them discovered they could... once they mastered a bar E, that was.
For readers, one of life’s more electrifying discoveries is that they ARE readers – not just capable of doing it... but in love with it... The first book that does that is never forgotten, and each page seems to bring a fresh revelation, one that burns and exalts...
Leo kind of sees into people. He’s not the only one, either. Maybe there were always people like that, but there seems to be a little bit more of it around since the flu.
Because we’re never the same from day to day or even moment to moment.
The greatest terror of Danny’s life was DIVORCE, a word that always appeared in his mind as a sign painted in red letters which were covered with hissing, poisonous snakes.
It wasn’t dark yet, but getting there; the shadows under the trees were thick and velvety, somehow luscious.
That’s right, buddy. You bought yourself a dime root beer this afternoon. You also put Carolyn Poulin back in a wheelchair.
Das ganze Leben ist ein Trick, und Liebe nichts als Glammer.
My score grows ever longer, and the day when it will all have to be totted up, like a long-time drunkard’s bill in an alehouse, draws ever nearer. However will I pay?
Spaghetti, Fleischsauce im Glas, vierzehn Fertiggerichte, ein Dutzend Eier und ein Netz Navelorangen zum Schutz vor Skorbut.
Diligence, word-lust, empathy equal growing objectivity and then what? Story. Story. Dammit, story!
Horror spawns horror.
I’d like to suggest that turning off that endlessly quacking box is apt to improve the quality of your life as well as the quality of your writing.
Always Roland; and in the end, after the others had fallen, murdered away one by one in these bloody motions, Roland would remain.
Showers early, then clearing. When Barry Manilow began moaning about Mandy, who came and who gave without takin’, the cabbie snapped the radio off. Bill.
Sure, and maybe a cabal of Victoria’s Secret lingerie models would crack the secret of hydrogen fusion.