'Have the wish I wish tonight,' Eddie said, and thought: Please, always you. 'Have the wish I wish tonight,' she echoed, and thought If I must die in this odd place, please let it not be too hard and let this good young man be with me.

'I'm not laughing at you guys,' King said. 'It's actually against my religion to laugh at men who are toting guns.'

'YOU ARE RUDE AND ARROGANT,' Blaine said. 'THESE MAY SEEM LIKE INTERESTING TRAITS TO YOU, BUT THEY ARE NOT TO ME.'

'Non-sense!' Engineer Bob was made! 'Charlie is still full of zip and zowie! I will telegraph the head office of the Mid-World Railway Company! I will telegraph the president, Mr. Raymond Martin, myself!'

Commala-come-fo’! I can lay ya low! The things I’ve do to such as you You never wanna know.

Horror’s a worm that needs to be coughed out before it breeds.

And it's one more beer And I don't hear you anymore We've all gone crazy lately My friends out there rolling round the basement floor

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.

Unfound had become Found.

Mordred's a hungry.

And anytime you feel the pain Hey Jude, refrain Don't carry the world upon your shoulders For well you know that it's a fool Who plays it cool By making his world a little colder

He felt awe as he looked up at those stars, but also a deep and abiding contentment, such as he had felt as a child, safe and warm beneath his quilt, drowsing half in and half out of sleep, listening to the wind sing its lonely song of other places and other lives.

The sound of the door snicking firmly shut between him and all the rest of the round world filled him with tremendous relief.

The soul of a man such as you can never leave the west.

We go to seek a better world. May you find one, as well.

They were all dead, except for him. The world had moved on. The gunslinger shouldered his gunna and moved on with it.

Ka is a wheel.

See the turtle of enormous girth, on his shell he holds the earth.

A coward judges all he sees by what he is.

I see a red door and I want it painted black. No colors anymore, I want them to turn black.

Passage between worlds. Then the gunfire. Then the killing.

He realized he was screaming. He had been screaming all along.

I want to stand in that field of roses, and I want to see the Tower that stands there. I don’t know what comes next. Mourners please omit flowers, probably, and for all of us. But I don’t care. I want to stand there.

At the same instant the gunslinger drew left-handed, and his draw was as it had always been, sick or well, wide awake or still half asleep: faster than a streak of blue summer lightning.

It hurt, of course, but more often than not the best things do, I’ve found. You wouldn’t think it could be so, but—as the oldtimers used to say—the world’s tilted, and there’s an end to it.

I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye.

No one ever does live happily ever after, but we leave the children to find that out for themselves, don’t we?

It starts here. From its field of roses, the Dark Tower cries out in its beast’s voice. Time is a face on the water.

Here is another one ready to die for you, Roland. What great wrong did you ever do that you should inspire such terrible loyalty in so many?

He felt awe as he looked up at those stars, but also a deep and abiding contentment, such as he had felt as a child, safe and warm beneath his quilt, drowsing half in and half out of sleep, listening to the wind sing its lonely song of other places and other lives.