Author of quotes: Stephen King

And time is also a thin film.

This is the past, this is the country of the past, and here the sins of the fathers fall on the children, sometimes even in the seventh generation, which is not yet in sight.

- ... and the past dies slowly in them.

We all line up: we live for today, at any given moment we are engaged in one particular thing: we eat, we get sick, we breathe. Dentists fill only one root canal, shipbuilders work on only one ship. If your job is to write books, you write one specific page. We turn away from everything we know and fear. We study catalogs, watch football matches, choose between Sprint and ATT [the largest telephone companies in the United States, fiercely competing with each other. - explanation in the book]. We count the birds in the sky and turn away from the window if we hear footsteps in the corridor behind us; we say, yes, I agree, clouds often look like something: fish, unicorns, horsemen - but in reality they are just clouds, and we switch our attention to the next dish, the next pain, the next breath, the next page. That's how we are made.

I thought about how important it is for a child to have a tin like this. You can store the things dearest to your heart in it: your favorite toy, a lace napkin, your first piece of jewelry. Or maybe a photograph of his mother.

Robinson accelerated and released the throttle. He gasped and let go. He gasped and let go. The rich smell of freshly burned gasoline filled the path. The world might have been a rotting corpse, that's all, but silence had been banished, at least here and now, and that was good. It was absolutely amazing. “Get the fuck out, silence,” he thought. - Get out. Get the fuck out and take with you the nag you hobbled on. This is my horse, it’s made of steel, how do you like it?”

Maybe Timlin was wrong about nothing. Everything was possible. In a world where you could look up and see stars, anything could exist.

“My suicide will be in classic Victorian style,” he said, as if the prospect pleased him. “Gun to the temple. With your free hand you close your eyes. Goodbye cruel world."

Be grateful for the time you spent with him. A lot of grace. That's what a good dog is, you know. A lot of grace.

... We were too concerned about the size of the national debt, and our friends on the other side of the pond were entirely focused on banning children's beauty pageants and supporting the euro.

She evoked strange feelings at that moment. It seems to be pity, but not compassion. It seemed as if her heart had been ripped out of her, and sadness remained just another ghost, a memory of love on the bones of hatred.

You must be able to accept life as it is, otherwise you will definitely end up in a small room with soft walls and write letters home with wax crayons.

In the city, parties begin with greetings at the door, collecting coats, light or air kisses (and where did all these strange things come from?). In nature, everything starts with work. You bring something, drag something, look for something, for example, iron tongs or grill grates. The hostess asks the men to move the table to another place, then decides that the previous one was better, and the men drag the table back. And at some point you realize that you can find pleasure in this too.

To overcome your own fears, you need to face them and recover.