The Drawing of the Three (The Dark Tower, #2)

by Stephen King

The prisoner saw nothing; the gunslinger saw everything.

“From time to time I need an antidote,” Eddie said. “From what?” “Your face.”

I looked at what he built, and to me it explained the stars.

Open wide for Dr. Eddie, you kidnapping fuck.”

Fault always lies in the same place, my fine babies: with him weak enough to lay blame.

Death was not for him; death was become him.