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Time puts gray in your beard, time takes away your jump-shot, and all the while you’re thinking—silly you—that it’s still on your side.
The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.
The stars were as indifferent to this as they were to wars, crucifixions, resurrections. This also would have pleased him.
“Screw you,” Zoltan croaked brightly. “Screw you and the horse you rode in on.” The gunslinger nodded amiably. “Beans, beans, the musical fruit,” the raven recited, inspired. “The more you eat, the more you toot.” “You teach him that?” “That’s all he wants to learn, I guess,” Brown said. “Tried to teach him The Lord’s Prayer once.”
The words dissolved into a paroxysm of unintelligibilities, finally to tears.
“I don’t know about that,” he said, “but it was something. It surely was.”
“I remember how they danced,” the gunslinger said softly. “I remember how they danced.”
And in the gunslinger’s mind, those words echoed: You dare not.
