Stephen King

The water was glassy and calm, still candy-colored in the afterglow of sunset.

Her body was wrapped in shadows like moth wings, like rose-petals.

As always at these times when he felt really in need of God the front of his mind was serene, but the deeper part, where faith did constant battle with doubt, was terrified that there would be no answer.

The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.

He smiles a lot. But I think there might be worms inside him making him smile.

the year she had run fleetly through the dewy grass under the moon- the night of wine, when dreams condensed out of thin air like the nightmilk of fantasy.

He could feel the pores of his body open like a million mouths and slurp the water in like a sponge.

If you say, Well, OK, I don't believe in God. There's no evidence of God, then you're missing the stars in the sky and you're missing the sunrises and sunsets and you're missing the fact that bees pollinate all these crops and keep us alive and the way that everything seems to work together. Everything is sort of built in a way that to me suggests intelligent design.

When you write, you want to get rid of the world, don’t you? Of course you do. When you’re writing, you’re creating your own worlds.

I'm going to be dead for a long time, so I have a lot to do now.

The book is not the important part. The book is the delivery system. The important part is the story and the talent.

As a rule, I don't worry about genre. I just want to tell a good story, with characters that interest me and my readers.

If I cannot horrify, I'll go for the gross out. I'm not proud.

If you can read in the 21st century you own the world.

Lovecraft opened the way for me, as he had done for others before me

Once I fell in love with books, I fell in love completely.

The brain is a muscle that can move the world.

Writing fiction, especially a long work of fiction, can be a difficult, lonely job; it's like crossing the Atlantic Ocean in a bathtub. There's plenty of opportunity for self-doubt.

JK Rowling created seven Horcruxes. She put a part of her soul in every book and now her books will live forever

The boat dipped and swayed and sometimes took on water, but it did not sink; the two brothers had waterproofed it well. I do not know where it finally fetched up, if it ever did; perhaps it reached the sea and sails there forever, like a magic boat in a fairytale. All I know is that it was still afloat and still running on the breast of the flood when it passed the incorporated town limits of Derry, Maine, and there it passes out of this tale forever.

Every religion lies. Every moral precept is a delusion. Even the stars are a mirage. The truth is darkness, and the only thing that matters is making a statement before one enters it. Cutting the skin of the world and leaving a scar. That's all history is, after all: scar tissue.