Bag of Bones

by Stephen King

Dead people put on weight, it seems to me; both in their flesh and in our minds, they put on weight.

Readers have a loyalty that cannot be matched anywhere else in the creative arts, which explains why so many writers who have run out of gas can keep coasting anyway, propelled onto the bestseller lists by the magic words AUTHOR OF on the covers of their books.

This is how we go on: one day at a time, one meal at a time, one pain at a time, one breath at a time.

Murder is the worst kind of pornography, murder is let me do what I want taken to its final extreme.