The water was glassy and calm, still candy-colored in the afterglow of sunset.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. When you find something at which you have talent, you do that thing (what ever it is) until your fingers bleed or your eyes pop out of your head.

He did it (listened) as the world's most charming and magnetic people do, always asking the right question at the right time, never fidgeting or taking his eyes from the speaker's face, making the other guy feel like the most knowledgeable, brilliant, and intellectually savvy person on the planet.

Wherever you write is supposed to be a little bit of a refuge, a place where you can get away from the world. The more closed in you are, the more you're forced back on your own imagination.

In small towns people scent the wind with noses of uncommon keenness.

The Overlook was still not done with him. Written on the mirror, not in lipstick but in blood, was a single word: REDRUM

In these silences something may rise