Stephen King Quotes

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Death at times seems like a dark tunnel to be traveled, and the future seems bleak.

There are ghosts in the room. As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there They come out of the gloom, And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.

No longer will you be a weird Robinson Crusoe, imprisoned on an island of night surrounded by oceans of death.

There are moments of despair that come sometimes, when night sets in and a white fog presses against the windows. Then our house changes its shape, rears up and becomes a place of despair. Then fear and rage run simply--and the thought of Death as a friend. This is the simplest of thoughts, that Death must come when we call, although he is a god.

I once lay in a white hospital for the dying and the dying self, where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die, where on my knees I prayed for LIGHT, I prayed for l*i*g*h*t, and praying crawled like a blind slug into the web where threads of wind stuck against my mind and I died of pity for Man, for myself, on a cross without nails, watching in fear as the pig belches in his sty, farts, blinks and eats.

I want to tell you what it was really like to think death is imminent, but I can't. It's a taste in your mouth. And an emptiness.

There's nothing like the vast, dark Atlantic to remind you of your mortality. But terror can also be exhilarating.

It was a time when only the dead smiled, happy in their peace.

I think theatre at its best looks into the dark corners; clearly, my dark corners are full of doom.

Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.

This whole country is a graveyard, and we are all constantly walking on the bones

There are no deliverers. They're all dead.

The best thing would be to break your neck, but you'd probably just break your leg and then you couldn't do a thing. You'd yell at the top of your lungs, but nobody;d hear you, and you couldn't expect anybody to find you, and you'd have centipedes and spiders crawling all over you, and the bones of the ones who died before are scattered all around you, and it's dark and soggy, and way overhead there's this tiny, tiny circle of light like a winter moon. You die there in this place, little by little, all by yourself.

We live in a very scary time. Or should I say we don't live at all.

But death is stronger than that and when you cover your eyes you are the one who can't see the dark. The dark still sees you.

Life and hope must cease together.

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief, And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

When the end comes, dark and hungry I'll be alone, love When the end comes, black and starving I'll say good-bye, love.-from Golden Tongue: The Poems of Steven Slaughter

It's not dark yet But it's getting there

The thing is, the more you fear death, the more you die. So it really doesn't pay off. It's a fear of the dark. Like any experience in life, you wonder, Well, if this ever happens, how would I react? and then it happens, and only then do you know.

When life is woe, and hope is dumb, the World says, "Go!" The Grave says, "Come!

A man falling into dark waters seeks a momentary footing even on sliding stones.

Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave.

The thread has snapped. No sound even to mark the breaking let alone the fall. That long anticipated disintegration, when the darkest angel of all, the horror beyond all horrors, sits at last upon my chest, permanently enfolding me in its great covering wings, black as ink, veined in Bees' purple. A creature without a voice. A voice without a name. As immortal as my life. Come here at long last to summon the wind.