The Shining

by Stephen King

For aren’t memories the true ghosts of our lives? Do they not drive all of us to words and acts we regret from time to time?

I believe these stories exist because we sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives:

That truth is that monsters are real, and ghosts are real, too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win.

Someday her child would be a stranger to her, and she would be strange to him … but not as strange as her own mother had become to her. Please don’t let it be that way, God. Let him grow up and still love his mother.