Love don’t die with the earthly body, son. It’s a purely ridiculous notion.
What good would that do had become another mantra, and he recognized it was a bad way to think, a step down the path to acceptance of this place. He didn’t want to go there, no way did he want to go there, but logic was logic.
Satan’s First Law of Malignity – to wit, if the worst can happen, it usually will.
History repeats itself is another way of saying the past harmonizes.
Men who find themselves late are never sure.
Roland cannot grasp that unhappiness and shame are often no match for desire.
The wide corridor up the centre of E Block was floored with linoleum the colour of tired old limes, and so what was the Last Mile at other prisons was called the Green Mile at Cold Mountain.
We need to talk is Momspeak for Houston, we have a problem.
I don’t understand this at all. I don’t understand any of this. Why does a story have to be socio-anything? Politics... culture... history... aren’t those natural ingredients in any story, if it’s told well? I mean... Can’t you guys just let a story be a story?
Finally I began to get angry. I wanted to make someone pay. I wanted to strike back at the world and make the world know I was alive.
Remember that the basic rule of vocabulary is to use the first word that comes to your mind, if it is appropriate and colourful. If you hesitate, and cogitate, you will come up with another word... but it probably won’t be as good as your first one, or as close to what you really mean.
He learned in high school that thinking too long about writing doesn’t work for him. Too many other ideas get into his head and start sliding all over each other. It’s better to just fire away.
Garish could see Rollins lying dead in a ditch with maggots in his eyes. Rollins wouldn’t care. Neither would the maggots. You either ate the world or the world ate you and it was okay either way.
He does not write to please you. He writes to please himself. I write to please myself. When that happens, you will like the work too.
Mike had learned the lesson; one whopping with the dishrag was all it took. Home before dark. Yes ma’am, right-o.
Boys were careless. It was a wonder any ever grew up to be men.
If the inn-boy was a halfwit, she’d known a lot of folks in her time who were running on quarters and eighths.
We were singing ‘We Are the Champions’ for the twentieth time or so,” she said from the hospital in Bowling Green, where most of the survivors were taken.
An amazing but ultimately explicable act of legerdemain?
Yes. Cumberland General. I know where it is. Just above Jerusalem’s Lot. Okay. All right. Daddy.