“The arguments against insanity fall through with a soft shirring sound;these are the sounds of dead voices on dead recordsfloating down the broken shaft of memory.When I turn to you to ask if you remember,When I turn to you in our bed”

“The 3 types of terror: The Gross-out: the sight of a severed head tumbling down a flight of stairs, it's when the lights go out and something green and slimy splatters against your arm. The Horror: the unnatural, spiders the size of bears, the dead waking up and walking around, it's when the lights go out and something with claws grabs you by the arm. And the last and worse one: Terror, when you come home and notice everything you own had been taken away and replaced by an exact substitute. It's when the lights go out and you feel something behind you, you hear it, you feel its breath against your ear, but when you turn around, there's nothing there...”

“For every mother who ever cursed God for her child dead in the road, for every father who ever cursed the man who sent him away from the factory with no job, for every child who was ever born to pain and asked why, this is the answer. Our lives are like these things I build. Sometimes they fall down for a reason, sometimes they fall down for no reason at all.”

“Allie sighed. It was an old, yellow sound, like turning pages.”

“My heart's with you, Bill, no matter how it turns out. My heart is with all of them, and I think that, even if we forget each other, we'll remember in our dreams.”

“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.”

“You're dead, George. You just don't have the sense to lie down.”