And If You Are Honest About The

When You're Five And You Hurt, You Make A Big Noise In The World. At Ten You Whimper. But By The Time You Make Fifteen You Begin To Eat The Poisoned Apples That Grow On Your Own Inner Tree Of Pain.

The Monster Nevers Dies.

What You Don’t Know, You Can’t Tell. Or Made To Tell.

There's One Novel, Cujo, That I Barely Remember Writing At All.

It Was Always A Pleasure To Write. I Can Never Think Of A Time When I Just Hacked Something Out To Fulfil A Contract Or Meet A Deadline. I Might Have Hacked Things Out, But It Was Always Stuff I Loved.