Stephen King, fully Stephen Edwin King

Stephen
King, fully Stephen Edwin King
1947

American Author of Contemporary Horror, Supernatural Fiction, Suspense, Science Fiction and Fantasy

Author Quotes

They say that loving eyes can never see, but that's a fool's axiom. Sometimes, they see too much

This is probably the single great subject of horror fiction: our need to cope with a mystery that can be understood only with the aid of a helpful imagination.

To the public eye, the spouses of well-known writers are all but invisible, and no one knew it better than Lisey Landon. Her husband won the Pulitzer and the National Book Award, but Lisey had given one interview in her life. This was for the well-known women's magazine that publishes the column "Yes, I'm Married toHim!" She spent roughly half of its five hundred word length explaining that her nickname rhymed with "CeeCee". Most of the other half had to do with her recipe for slow-cooked roast beef. Lisey's sister Amanda said that the picture accompanying the interview made Lisey look fat. None of Lisey's sister were immune to the pleasures of setting the cat among the pigeons ("stirring up a stink" had been their father's phrase for it), or having a good natter about someone else's dirty laundry, but the only one Lisey had a hard time liking was this same Amanda. Eldest (and oddest) of the onetime Debusher girls of Lisbon Falls, Amanda currently lived alone, in a house which Lisey had provided, a small, weather-tight place not too far from Castle View where Lisey, Darla, and Cantata could keep a eye on her. Lisey had bought it for her seven years ago, five before Scott died. Died Young. Died Before His Time, as the saying was. Lisey still had trouble believing he'd been gone for two years. It seemed both longer and the blink of an eye.

Want to know the best thing about teaching? Seeing that moment when a kid discovers his or her gift. There's no feeling on earth like it.

We live in a society now where the sexual taboo for children has really passed by the wayside. Any nineyear-old can go into a 7-11 and check out the Playmate of the Month, but you don't want your kids to know about death. You don't want your kids to know about disfigurement. You don't want 'em to know about creepy things because it might warp their little minds.

What can be done when you?re eleven can often never be done again.

Whatever came to mind, whatever came to hand, I would read.

When it comes to the past, everyone writes fiction.

When you write a book, you spend day after day scanning and identifying the trees. When you?re done, you have to step back and look at the forest.

With six weeks' worth of recuperation time, you'll also be able to see any glaring holes in the plot or character development. And listen--if you spot a few of these big holes, you are forbidden to feel depressed about them or to beat up on yourself. Screw-ups happen to the best of us.

Writing fiction...is no job for intellectual cowards.

You can go through your whole life telling yourself that life is logical, life is prosaic, life is sane. Above all sane. And I think it is. I've had a lot of time to think about that. And what I keep coming back to is [her] dying declaration: 'So you understand that when we increase the number of variables, the axioms themselves never change.'

You don't have to look back to see those children; part of your mind will see them forever. They are not necessarily the best part of you, but they were once the repository of all you could become.

You say true, I say thankya.

You've got to do something to fill up your day. And I can only play so much guitar and watch so many TV shows. It fulfills me. There are two things about it I like: It makes me happy, and it makes other people happy.

They walked back into the world together, wearing the gift that had been given them: just life. Pity was not love, Barbie reflected... but if you were a child, giving clothes to someone who was naked had to be a step in the right direction.

This time Brady wonders what Freddi would say if he told her what life was like for him when he was a kid. That was when he killed his brother. And his mother covered it up. Why would she not? After all, it had sort of been her idea.

To write is human, to edit is divine.

Wanting more is just a recipe for heartache.

We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.

What charitable 1 percenters can't do is assume responsibility - America's national responsibilities: the care of its sick and its poor, the education of its young, the repair of its failing infrastructure, the repayment of its staggering war debts.

What's been tried once had been tried once before... and before... and before...

When love leaves the world, all hearts are still. Tell them of my love and tell them of my pain and tell them of my hope, which still lives. For this is all I have and all I am and all I ask.

When you write a story, you?re telling yourself the story,? he said. ?When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story.

Without story books is like a person with no soul.

First Name
Stephen
Last Name
King, fully Stephen Edwin King
Birth Date
1947
Bio

American Author of Contemporary Horror, Supernatural Fiction, Suspense, Science Fiction and Fantasy