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

by Stephen King

And, so far as he could tell, not one of them was armed—he saw no dagger nor sword, let alone a gun. What kind of trusting sheep were these?

and you don’t even bother to say anything else, it’s like a center-fielder who doesn’t even bother to chase the ball when it’s hit a certain way, he just turns around and watches it go into the upper deck, because when it’s gone it’s gone,

fat things, for the most part, and even those who looked reasonably fit also looked open, unguarded, their faces those of spoiled and cosseted children, the faces of men who would fight—eventually—but who would whine almost endlessly before they did; you could let their guts out onto their shoes and their last expressions would not be rage or agony but stupid surprise.

search him from head to toe, from asshole to appetite, and back again.

Thank all the gods that are or ever were,

You don’t look modest, Captain McDonald thought. You look like a cat that just got the cream, that’s what you look like.

For every mother who ever cursed God for her child dead in the road, for every father who ever cursed the man who sent him away from the factory with no job, for every child who was ever born to pain and asked why, this is the answer. Our lives are like these things I build. Sometimes they fall down for a reason, sometimes they fall down for no reason at all.”

What great wrong did you ever do that you should inspire such terrible loyalty in so many?

Bloody Black Bitch Queen of Spiders

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

the dark romance in his nature was overset by his practicality and simplicity.

If you have given up your heart for the Tower, Roland, you have already lost. A heartless creature is a loveless creature, and a loveless creature is a beast. To be a beast is perhaps bearable, although the man who has become one will surely pay hell’s own price in the end, but what if you should gain your object? What if you should, heartless, actually storm the Dark Tower and win it? If there is naught but darkness in your heart, what could you do except degenerate from beast to monster?

Oh, then he had loved. Yes. Then. I do want to love!

laughed fit to split.

But never in his life had he felt such a deadly need for sleep. It would take him soon enough; if he didn’t give in willingly, sleep would rape him.

When you planned rough, you allowed room for improvisation. And improvisation at short notice had always been one of Roland’s strong points.

Control the things you can control, maggot. Let everything else take a flying fuck at you, and if you must go down, go down with your guns blazing.

for these people, wonder had run out: here, in a place of miracles, he saw only dull faces and plodding bodies.

they cared better for the weapons they wore than for the weapons they were.

I’M GONNA BLOW YO EYES RIGHT BACK THROUGH YO FUCKIN ASSHOLES!”

“I who was; I who had no right to be but was; I am the woman who you have saved.

“He had a tower, too, only it wasn’t dark. Remember me telling you about Henry’s tower? We were brothers, and I guess we were gunslingers. We had this White Tower, and he asked me to go after it with him the only way he could ask, so I saddled up, because he was my brother, you dig it?

“So what? Saddle up again? Go on and meet the man again?”

“Everything there is,” the gunslinger said calmly. “We are going to go, Eddie. We are going to fight. We are going to be hurt. And in the end we will stand.”