But nothing had ever spoiled it, somehow. It could be spoiled, he knew that, but in spite of the reputed fragility of the creative act, it had always been the single toughest thing, the most abiding thing, in his life – nothing had ever been able to pollute that crazy well of dreams: no drink, no drug, no pain.

— Stephen King

Stephen King Quotes

He would write it because the Overlook had enchanted him-could any other explanation be so simple or so true? He would write it for the reason he felt that all great literature, fiction and nonfiction, was written: truth comes out, in the end it always comes out. He would write it because he felt he had to.

— Stephen King

He had locked himself safely away in a place beyond pain.

— Stephen King

There’s a wavelength, and they’re on it.

— Stephen King

Those OxyContins he takes aren’t just pain pills, they’re stupid pills.

— Stephen King

Are these the voices of our dead friends, or just the gramophone?

— Stephen King

Might as well spit in the ocean.

— Stephen King

The pain had driven him out of his mind. You could see it on his face. If that guy came back, he probably wouldn’t be in a saving mood. The.

— Stephen King

Wenn man lange genug an etwas denkt, dachte ich, dann wird es Wirklichkeit.

— Stephen King

The right to life.

— Stephen King

Menschen, die Alibis brauchten, waren Menschen, die Geheimnisse hatten.

— Stephen King

Footsteps approaching the door or only the heartbeat in his ears?

— Stephen King

I believe you hear a click, not in your head but in your soul, when you find the place where you belong. You can ignore it, but really, why would you?

— Stephen King

What do you mean, visiting hours? Don’t talk to me about visiting hours, that’s my son!

— Stephen King

It goes back to what I said about Andy wearing his freedom like an invisibility coat, about how he never really developed a prison mentality. His eyes never got that dull look.

— Stephen King

It was a love that had nothing to do with Joe Camber’s day-to-day behavior toward him or his mother; it was a brute, biological thing that he would never be free of, a phenomenon with many illusory referents of the sort which haunt for a lifetime: the smell of cigarette smoke, the look of a double-edged razor reflected in a mirror, pants hung over a chair, certain curse words.

— Stephen King

Honesty’s the best policy. – Miguel de Cervantes Liars prosper. – Anonymous.

— Stephen King

The grass in the back field was almost waist high, and now there was goldenrod, that late-summer gossip which comes to tattle on autumn every year. But there was no autumn in the air today; the sun was still all August, although calendar August was almost two weeks gone.

— Stephen King

The body was much smaller than the heart it had held.

— Stephen King

What was right with him he’d only give you a little at a time. What was wrong with him he kept bottled up inside.

— Stephen King

I want to tell you something else, something I’m really starting to believe: I’m going to be okay. Not today, not tomorrow, and not next week, but eventually. As okay as we mortals are privileged to get, anyway. It’s good to know that – good to know that survival is still an option, and that sometimes it even feels good. That sometimes it actually feels like victory.

— Stephen King
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