He combed his hair like Elvis and had a slightly dangerous look, like a sailor two drinks into a shore leave that will end badly.
Only you can save yourself. But the way of the gun is the way of damnation as well as salvation; in the end there is no difference.
Staring at the hedge animals, he realized something had changed while he had his hand over his eyes.
Other players and at least one great composer – Beethoven – had lived with deafness, but hearing loss wasn’t where Hugh’s woes ended. There was the vertigo, the trembling, the periodic loss of vision. There was nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, galloping pulse. Worst of all was the almost constant tinnitus. He had always thought deafness meant silence. This was not true, at least not in his case. Hugh Yates had a constantly braying burglar alarm in the middle of his head.
The ever-popular conspiracy theory. No home should be without one.
The interesting pyrotechnics of the day had played a part – how could you write while pocket thunderstorms kept coming and going over the water?
He was as surprised as anyone when the excrement hit the cooling device. He.
The editor is always right.
Why do people do that to gifted people? Is it jealousy? Fear? Both, maybe. But this kid had the advantage of knowing how good he was.
He used to watch NBC until he decided Brian Williams was a good-natured goof who’s too fond of YouTube videos.
It’s eternity in there.
And in the bug, which moved upward more surely on the gentler grade, he kept looking out between them as the road unwound, affording occasional glimpses of the Overlook Hotel, its massive bank of westward-looking windows reflecting back the sun. It was the place he had seen in the midst of the blizzard, the dark and booming place where some hideously familiar figure sought him down long corridors carpeted with jungle.
I doubt if this is God’s doing. I suspect he’ll keep right out of it as a consequence.
Few if any seemed to have grasped the truest principle of reality: new knowledge leads always to yet more awesome mysteries.
I often think, Cap, that we fought the war in Vietnam not to win but to perform feats of technology. We fought it in order to create the cheap digital wristwatch, the home Ping-Pong game that hooks up to one’s TV, the pocket calculator. I look at my new wristwatch in the dark of night. It tells me I am closer to my death, second by second. That is good news.
His hands had dropped to the worn butts of his guns. “Those do not open doors, gunslinger; those only close them forever.
Hank Peters woke up in the early hours of the next morning from a dream of huge rats crawling out of an open grave, a grave which held the green and rotting body of Hubie Marsten, with a frayed length of manila hemp around his neck. Peters lay propped on his elbows, breathing heavily, naked torso slicked with sweat, and when his wife touched his arm he screamed aloud. EIGHT.
There. I’ve not only given advice, I’ve made a speech. Old age is insidious.
Free samples are fine, but if you give people too much for-free, whether it’s clothes or food or information, they come to expect it.
The next evening she brought him the Royal. It was an office model from an era when such things as electric typewriters, color TVs, and touch-tone telephones were only science fiction. It was as black and as proper as a pair of high-button shoes. Glass panels were set into the sides, revealing the machine’s levers, springs, ratchets, and rods. A steel return lever, dull with disuse, jutted to one side like a hitchhiker’s thumb. The roller was dusty, its hard rubber scarred and pitted.