Jud Pet Sematary Quotes

Sometimes, dead is bettah" - Jud Crandall, Pet Sematary

The soil of a man's heart is stonier [...] A man grows what he can... and he tends it" - Jud Crandall, Chapter 22 (near end) Pet Sematary

You only stop meltin the snow under where you're layin when you're dead.

You may hear sounds like voices, but they are just the loons down Prospect. The sound carries. It’s funny…

He told himself not to be ridiculous, to be like Jud and avoid ideas about what might be seen or heard beyond the Pet Sematary — they were loons, they were St Elmo's fire, they were the members of the New York Yankees' bullpen. Let them be anything but the creatures which leap ans crawl and slither and shamble in the world between. Let there be God, let there be Sunday morning, let there be smiling Episcopalian ministers in shining white surplices... but let them not be these dark and draggling horrors on the nightside of the universe.

-Jud, che cos'abbiamo fatto, stasera? -Ma come, abbiamo seppellito il gatto di tua figlia. -Tutto qui, quello che abbiamo fatto? -Nient'altro che questo. Tu sei un caro uomo, Luois, ma fai troppe domande. Uno, a volte, deve fare le cose che gli sembrano giuste. Che ritiene giuste in cuor suo, voglio dire. E se le fa e poi si ritrova a non essere tranquillo, pieno di dubbi e un po' come se avesse fatto indigestione, però con la testa, non con lo stomaco, ecco che si mette in mente d'avere fatto un errore. Capisci quello che voglio dire?

Maybe I did it because kids need to know that sometimes dead is better,” Jud said with some difficulty. “That’s somethin your Ellie don’t know, and I got a feelin that maybe she don’t know because your wife don’t know. Now, you go ahead and tell me if I’m wrong, and we’ll leave it.

I know you did, dear.” He leaned in and kissed her, and when he withdrew, his eyes swept Louis and Rachel stonily. Rachel met his gaze, puzzled and a little hurt, not understanding. But Louis understood well enough: What are you doing for her? Jud’s eyes asked. Your son is dead, but your daughter is not. What are you doing for her? Louis looked away. There was nothing he could do for her, not yet. She would have to swim in her grief as best she could. His thoughts were too full of his son.

Jud—” he began again, but Jud only grabbed the pick and walked off toward the steps. Louis got the shovel, had to trot to catch up, and then saved his breath for walking.

And after a time, there they were, home again. They walked toward it together, not speaking, and stopped again in Louis’s driveway. The wind moaned and whined. Wordlessly, Louis handed Jud his pick.