Stephen King
Stephen King
Stephen Edwin Kingis an American author of contemporary horror, supernatural fiction, suspense, science fiction, and fantasy. His books have sold more than 350 million copies, many of which have been adapted into feature films, miniseries, television shows, and comic books. King has published 54 novels, including seven under the pen name Richard Bachman, and six non-fiction books. He has written nearly 200 short stories, most of which have been collected in book collections. Many of his stories are set in...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth21 September 1947
CityPortland, ME
Although emotionally delicate and eminently bruisable, teenagers are short on empathy. That comes later in life, if it comes at all.
Resistance to change is proportional to how much the future might be altered by any given act.
I am, when you stop to think of it, a member of a fairly select group: the final handful of American novelists who learned to read and write before they learned to eat a daily helping of video bullshit.
I hold to no God," Roland said. "I hold to the Tower, and won't pray to that.
You know," King said, "I'm not much good at telling stories. That sounds like a paradox, but it's not; it's the reason I write them down.
As always, the blessed relief of starting, a feeling that was like falling into a hole filled with bright light. As always, the glum knowledge that he would not write as well as he wanted to write. As always the terror of not being able to finish, of accelerating into a brick wall. As always, the marvelous joyful nervy feeling of journey begun.
Teddy, Vern, Chris: I don't shut up. I grow up. And when I look at you, I throw up. Aghhh! Gordie: And then your mom goes around the corner and she licks it up.
The scholar's greatest weakness: calling procrastination research.
Weird love's better than no love at all.
It's a hard life if you don't weaken.
Our time here is brief, our risk enormous. Don't waste the one or increase the other, if you please.
A great whispering noise began to rise in the woods on either side of the tracks, as if the forest had just noticed we were there and was commenting on it.
You can't be careful on a skateboard.
But now the joy is gone and the sadness is back, the sadness feels like something deserved, the price of some not-quite-forgotten betrayal.