The Waste Lands (The Dark Tower, #3)

by Stephen King

Pain was a tool, after all. Sometimes it was the best tool.

pretty, but today was ten times better – that day, perhaps, when spring looks around herself and sees summer standing nearby, strong and handsome and with a cocky grin on his tanned face.

The mild, spicy smell of old books hit him, and the smell was somehow like coming home.

he was a city boy, and the only thing he knew for sure about trees was that some had leaves and some had needles)

‘YOU ARE KA-TET; ONE MADE FROM MANY. SO AM I. WHOSE KA-TET IS THE STRONGER IS SOMETHING WE MUST NOW PROVE.’