The Wind Through the Keyhole (The Dark Tower, #4.5)

by Stephen King

Pray for rain all you like, but dig a well as you do it.

Time is a keyhole, he thought as he looked up at the stars. Yes, I think so. We sometimes bend and peer through it. And the wind we feel on our cheeks when we do—the wind that blows through the keyhole—is the breath of all the living universe.

When ka comes, it comes like the wind—

and then his child’s heart died a little. For that is also the way of the world.