E quasi per sbaglio Eddie scoprì una delle grandi verità della sua infanzia: i veri mostri sono gli adulti.
Questa volta la voce non venne dalla luna. Questa volta venne da sotto il letto.
Swear to me swear to me that if it isn't dead you'll all come back.
The terror, which would not end for another twenty-eight years–if it ever did end–began, so far as I know or can tell, with a boat made from a sheet of newspaper floating down a gutter swollen with rain.
stop now before i kill you a word to the wise from your friend PENNYWISE
Seven, Richie thought. That's the magic number. There has to be seven of us. That's the way it's supposed to be.
WHERE THE HELL IS DERRY, MAINE?
You pay for what you get, you own what you pay for... and sooner or later whatever you own comes back home to you.
Calling it a simple schoolgirl crush was like saying a Rolls-Royce was a vehicle with four wheels, something like a hay-wagon. She did not giggle wildly and blush when she saw him, nor did she chalk his name on trees or write it on the walls of the K...
My heart's with you, Bill, no matter how it turns out. My heart is with all of them, and I think that, even if we forget each other, we'll remember in our dreams.
It was easier to be brave when you were someone else.
For a moment he felt a wild hope: perhaps this really was a nightmare. Perhaps he would awake in his own bed, bathed in sweat, shaking, maybe even crying . . . but alive. Safe. Then he pushed the thought away. Its charm was deadly, its comfort fatal.
...there were those who might have suggested that reality is a highly untrustworthy concept, something perhaps no more solid than a piece of canvas stretched over an interlacing of cables like the strands of a spiderweb.
Each year the world Rich lived in felt more and more like a huge electronic haunted house in which digital ghosts and frightened human beings lived in uneasy coexistence.
Boys say they don't mind how you get your hair done. But then they leave you for someone with really great standard girl hair and the next thing you know you're alone with a masculine crop crying into your granola.
