“Was there ever a trap to match the trap of love?”

“The trap had a ghastly perfection”

“John's eyes turned to me...I saw no resignation in them, no hope of heaven, no drawing peace. How I would love to tell you that I did. How I would love to tell myself that. What I saw was misery...fear, incompletion and incomprehension. They were the eyes of a trapped and terrified animal. (The Green Mile/Paul Edgecomb character)”

“Who is that trip-trapping upon my bridge?' Miss Davies spoke in the low, growling tones of the troll in the story. Some of the little ones covered their mouths and giggled, but most only watched her solemnly, accepting the voice of the troll as they accepted the voices of their dreams, and their grave eyes reflected the eternal fascination of the fairy tale: would the monster be bested . . . or would it feed?”

“and so will the world end, I think, a victim of love rather than hate. For love's ever been the more destructive weapon, sure.”

“A time will come when it won’t pass.’The gunslinger made no reply, for he knew this was true. The trap had a ghastly perfection. If someone told you you’d go to hell if you thought about seeing your mother naked (once when the gunslinger was very young he had been told this very thing), you’d eventually do it. And why? Because you did not want to imagine your mother naked. Because you did not want to go to hell. Because, if given a knife and a hand in which to hold it, the mind would eventually eat itself. Not because it wanted to; because it did not want to.”

“A kid of your age—any kid—could get hold of matches if she wanted to, burn up the house or whatever. But not many do. Why would they want to?”