I started after him...and the clown looked back. I saw Its eyes, and all at once I understood who It was." "Who was it, Don?" Harold Gardner asked softly. "It was Derry," Don Hagarty said. "It was this town.

He supposed that even in Hell, people got an occasional sip of water, if only so they could appreciate the full horror of unrequited thirst when it set in again.

Our time here is brief, our risk enormous. Don't waste the one or increase the other, if you please.

In both writing and sleeping, we learn to be physically still at the same time we are encouraging our minds to unlock from the humdrum rational thinking of our daytime lives.

Life was a wheel, its only job was to turn, and it always came back to where it started.

Fiction is the truth inside the lie.

If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. - Japanese Proverb