Author of quotes: Stephen King. Page 4

The souls of the slain and the martyrs always go to heaven.

Most often, this is what happens: it is worth writing about some event, and it ceases to torment you. Leaves alone, leaves, just like the image in the old faded photographs - every day it becomes brighter, erased. fades until only a yellow-white rectangle of paper remains.

It is easy for them to give advice when they are there and I am here.

Nolly and I went to the movies a couple of weeks ago. There was more gore in this western than I've seen in all my years in Korea. The kids ate popcorn and giggled.

When man drove God out of his heart, Satan took his place.

The church adopted a new concept of evil with a small letter. And the devil is no longer a monster with a tail and horns, and no longer a snake crawling through the garden, but simply a psychological image. The gigantic collective subconscious of all of us.

The main thing is to control yourself. Avoid fear or panic.

It's amazing how the brain always resists what it doesn't like or threatens.

Before falling asleep, he found the strength to be surprised once again at the oddities of adults. They drown themselves with alcohol or take sleeping pills away from such ordinary fears as work, money, whether my wife loves me, whether I have friends. They don't face the fears that any child experiences when they lie awake in a dark room.

The city has secrets, and some of them become known, while others do not. The city keeps them all with an equally impenetrable air. The city accepts the devil as much as it accepts God. He knows about darkness. And that's enough.

The city knew about the darkness. He knew about the darkness that comes when the earth turns to the sun on the other side, and about the darkness of the human soul. The city is a combination of three parts, more than just parts. The city is the people who live in it; they are buildings erected for life or for business; this is his land.

He wanted to be a true priest. Fight and die in the name of the Lord. But there was no one to fight. Evil turned out to have many faces, and all the faces were fuzzy and too mundane. Involuntarily I had to think that there is no Evil in the world at all, but only evil or even evil.

He thought about confession. The Church's machine slowly turned, turning all the little sins and sins into one endless, heavenly symphony of evil - an evil that the church finally began to associate with social conditions. But in the confessional, invisibly, like the smell of velvet, there was another evil - thoughtless, senseless, which he could not forgive.

Death and grief are a natural part of life. It's nothing you can do.