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

by Stephen King

He walked out of nowhere toward nowhere, a man from another time who, it seemed, had reached a point of pointless ending.

Because the difference between seeing and not seeing can be the difference between living and dying.

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.”

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

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

A heartless creature is a loveless creature, and a loveless creature is a beast.

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.

of these men had been a creature the gunslinger believed to be a demon himself, a creature that pretended to be a man and called itself Flagg.

Here were cures for things that needed no curing: things to make your bowels run or stop them up, to make your teeth white and your hair black, things to make your breath smell better as if you could not do that by chewing alder-bark. No magic here; only trivialities—although

“We are going to go, Eddie. We are going to fight. We are going to be hurt. And in the end we will stand.”