When asked, 'How do you write?' I invariably answer, 'one word at a time.'

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

The shuddering would not stop. The pain was like the end of the world. He thought: There comes a point when the very discussion of pain becomes redundant. No one knows there is pain the size of this in the world. No one. It is like being possessed by demons.

This inhuman place makes human monsters.

They were trying to run, trying to hide. But the rock would not hide them; the dead tree gave no shelter.

On that gray street, with the smell of industrial smokes in the air and the afternoon bleeding away to evening, downtown Derry looked only marginally more charming than a dead hooker in a church pew.

The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want for nothing. He makes me lie down in the green pastures. He greases up my head with oil. He gives me kung-fu in the face of my enemies. Amen