The Dark Tower (The Dark Tower, #7)

by Stephen King

“Because talent won’t be quiet, doesn’t know how to be quiet,” he said. “Whether it’s a talent for safe-cracking, thought-reading, or dividing ten-digit numbers in your head, it screams to be used. It never shuts up. It’ll wake you in the middle of your tiredest night, screaming, ‘Use me, use me, use me! I’m tired of just sitting here! Use me, fuckhead, use me!’”

The need to recreate the myth of coherence may be one of the reasons why history exists in the first place.

There were no words in it, nor could there have been. Our greatest moments of triumph are always inarticulate.

There is no such thing as a happy ending. I never met a single one to equal “Once upon a time.” Endings are heartless. Ending is just another word for goodbye.