A Quote by Stephen King

In many ways, Eulah-Beulah prepared me for literary criticism. After having a two-hundred-pound babysitter fart on your face and yell Pow!, The Village Voice holds few terrors.
I've buried six Guardian Angels who have been shot and killed in the line of duty. I was stalked myself, had a gunman go pow, pow, pow, pow, pow, pow, five hollow point bullets, God save me. What do you think this is? This isn't Zimmerman. But unfortunately, he's become the face of Block Watch, Crime Watch.
About two hundred or two hundred and fifty years after the death of Grettir, his history was committed to writing, and then it became fixed - nothing further was added to it, and we have his story after having travelled down over two hundred years as a tradition.
I also encourage my students to read literary criticism that is deeply personal yet formally inventive and intellectually expansive... books that offer unorthodox ways of doing double duty as literary criticism and as love letters to the power of literature per se.
Let every fart count as a peal of thunder for liberty. Let every fart remind the nation of how much it has let pass out of its control. It is a small gesture, but one that can be very effective - especially in a large crowd. So fart, and if you must, fart often. But always fart without apology. Fart for freedom, fart for liberty - and fart proudly.
Certainly professionally, yes [I was interested more in history]. And literary criticism, the structure of poetry. But it is primarily as a historian that I work, although text criticism and literary criticism are very much a part of my interests.
[Wishing her mother had named her Beulah:] At least you did not sit on your beulah.
The ocean is a place of paradoxes. It is the home of the great white shark, two-thousand-pound killer of the seas, and of the hundred-foot blue whale, the largest animal that ever lived. It is also the home of living things so small that your two hands might scoop up as many of them as there are stars in the Milky Way.
Here are a few ways to face a habit and say "no" to it: Go outside your fixed routine; turn off the computer and the television; find a new outlet for your down time; talk to someone who holds a viewpoint contrary to yours and pay respectful attention, really listening.
There are only two ways out for animals at pounds--being adopted or being killed. And cats have such a low rate of adoption that many pounds, even in some larger cities, don't bother to take them in at all. Not for nothing is it always the "dog pound" and never the "cat pound.
Only two things change when you get older: the energy in your voice and the time of night you feel it's appropriate to call someone. In your 20s, people call at 2 a.m. and yell, 'Are you up?' into the answering machine. Now, someone calls after 8 p.m., and my boyfriend is like, 'Who is that? Who could be calling at this hour?'
Give the villagers village arithmetic, village geography, village history and the literary knowledge that they must use daily, i.e. reading and writing letters, etc.
The land of Beulah lies beyond the valley of the shadow of death. Many Christians spend all their days in a continual bustle, doing good. They are too busy to find either the valley or Beulah. Virtues they have, but are full of the life and attractions of nature, and unacquainted with the paths of mortification and death.
When you listen and read one thinker, you become a clone… two thinkers, you become confused… ten thinkers, you’ll begin developing your own voice… two or three hundred thinkers, you become wise and develop your voice.
Those who come a hundred or two hundred years after us will despise us for having lived our lives so stupidly and tastelessly. Perhaps they'll find a means to be happy.
A—ris—ta?” Degan asked, sounding horse. “What is it?” “A rat bit me,” she said, once again shocked by her own rasping voice. “Jasper does that if—” Gaunt coughed and hacked. After a moment, he spoke again. “If he thinks you’re dead or too weak to fight.” “Jasper?” “I call him that, but I’ve also named the stones in my cell.” “I only counted mine,” Arista said. “Two hundred and thirty-four,” Degan replied instantly. “I have two hundred and twenty-eight.” “Did you count the cracked ones as two?” “No.
Few of the great tragedies of history were created by the village idiot, and many by the village genius.
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