Dean Koontz
Dean Koontz
Dean Ray Koontzis an American author. His novels are broadly described as suspense thrillers, but also frequently incorporate elements of horror, fantasy, science fiction, mystery, and satire. Many of his books have appeared on the New York Times Bestseller List, with 14 hardcovers and 14 paperbacks reaching the number one position. Koontz wrote under a number of pen names earlier in his career, including "David Axton", "Leigh Nichols" and "Brian Coffey". He has sold over 450 million copies as reported on...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth9 July 1945
CityEverett, PA
CountryUnited States of America
If I drive myself to the brink of my ability, then I don't get stale or bored.
When tempest tossed, embrace chaos
When I'm working on a novel, I work 70-hour weeks.
Human beings are such knotted, desperate pieces of work-it's a rare thing to know one completely, to the core, and still love him.
Or maybe they were just doing it for fun. A lark. Their religion is tolerant of extreme forms of recreation. Boys will be boys, after all, and sociopathic boys will be sociopathic.
To a predator, fear indicates weakness.
After once having made the mistake of watching television news, I had worried for a while about an asteroid hitting the earth and wiping out human civilization. The anchorwoman had said it was not merely possible but probable. At the end of the report, she smiled.
The things we worry about the most are never the things that bite us. The sharpest teeth always take their nip of us when we are looking the other way.
He was sure that he was not the cause of the abrupt silence. His passage through the canyon had not previously disturbed either birds or cicadas. Something was out there. An intruder of which the ordinary forest creatures clearly did not approve. He took a deep breath and held it again, straining to hear the slightest movement in the woods. This time he detected the rustle of brush, a snapping twig, the soft crunch of dry leaves-and the unnervingly peculiar, heavy, ragged breathing of something big.
Death came, Death went, but Commerce flowed Eternal.
She says what holds their marriage together is that she feels too damn sorry for him to ask for a divorce.
The snow did not even whisper its way to earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence.
Thanks to the circus between my ears, I can seize upon the smallest disquieting observation and from it extrapolate a terror of cataclysmic proportions.
Loyal companions are an unequaled grace, stanching fear before it bleeds you numb, a reliable antidote for creeping despair.