The Dark Tower (The Dark Tower, #7)

by Stephen King

life had been one damned thing after another.

I should have schooled him better in betrayal. Yet all the gods know I did the best I could.

“There’ll be guards,” Eddie said. “Maybe a lot of them. What if we’re outnumbered?” “It won’t be the first time,” Roland said.

“You mustn’t use your good-mind to steal my grief,” Susannah told him, “for I’d open my mouth and drink it to the dregs. Every drop.”

You’ve done hell’s work here, but hell’s shut, and I mean to see it will never open this particular set of doors again.”

“Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer. “Death is speechless, so hear my speech.”

“I’m afraid to go to sleep,” he said. “I’m afraid my dead friends will come to me, and that seeing them will kill me.”

she felt as if all but the last two ounces of fuck-you had been squeezed out of her.

There’s little in life that’s so disheartening as constant cold.

The cart was lighter now, had to be, but it felt heavier. Of course it’s heavier, he thought. It’s got my grief in it. I pull it along with me everywhere I go, so I do.

Old White Daddy collapsed so suddenly that for a moment Mordred feared that perhaps the strip of jerky that served the son of a bitch as a heart had finally given up beating.

the body was far smaller than the heart it had held.

This line ruins me every time.

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.

Here is the Dark Tower at sunset.

UNFOUND had become FOUND.