Wolves of the Calla (The Dark Tower, #5)

by Stephen King

“No,” Eddie agreed. “That’s more like a category name than anything else. In our world you got your mystery and suspense stories . . . your science fiction stories . . . your Westerns . . . your fairy tales. Get it?” “Yes,” Roland said. “Do people in your world always want only one story-flavor at a time? Only one taste in their mouths?” “I guess that’s close enough,” Susannah said. “Does no one eat stew?” Roland asked.

Food and palaver don’t mix”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll never stop now. Might not stop even if I die.”

Be careful what you say, Eddie.

“May your first day in hell last ten thousand years,” Roland murmured. Margaret nodded. “Aye, and let that one be the shortest.

“Your Man Jesus seems to me a bit of a son of a bitch when it comes to women,” Roland said. “Was He ever married?” The corners of Callahan’s mouth quirked. “No,” he said, “but His girlfriend was a whore.” “Well,” Roland said, “that’s a start.”

“My Da’ and Cuthbert’s Da’ used to have a rule between em: first the smiles, then the lies. Last comes gunfire.”

“Graves come later.” Roland looked up at the sky, but the clouds had advanced out of the west and stolen the stars. “Just remember, it’s the winners who dig them.”