"Now there was a fourth woman. She had been born out of the third in yet another time of stress and change. She cared nothing for Odetta, Detta, or Susannah; she cared for nothing save the new chap who was on his way. The new chap needed to be fed. The banqueting hall was near. That was what mattered and all that mattered.This new woman, every bit as dangerous in her own way as Detta Walker had been, was Mia. She bore the name of no man's father, only the word that in the High Speech means mother."

"Who's this Claudia y Inez Bachman?"

"The whole world was losing its shit, going nineteen."

"Do people in your world always want only one story flavor at a time? Only one taste in their mouths?"

"No one ever does live happily ever after, but we leave the children to find that out for themselves."

"And really, what could be so special about the number nineteen? Mystery Number, indeed."

"Near them, stuck on the branch of a tree, had been a note from the being Roland had just missed killing in Palace: 'Renounce the Tower. This is your last warning.' Ridiculous, really. Roland would no more renounce the Tower than he'd kill Jake's pet billy-bumbler and then roast him on a spit for dinner. None of them would renounce Roland's Dark Tower. God help them, they were in it all the way to the end."

"Do'ee say the world will end in fire or in ice, gunslinger?" Roland considered this. "Neither",he said at last. "I think in darkness"

"I'll pay ye back. By all the gods that ever were, I'll pay ye back. When ye least expect it, there Rhea will be, and your screams will break your throats. Do you hear me? Your screams will break your throats!"

"Above them, Demon Moon grinned and winked one eye through what appeared to be a shifting scrim of blood"

"Fools are the only folk on the earth who can absolutely count on getting what they deserve."

"Wondering if she wanted as badly as he did to be out of here, to be in the dark, to be alone in the dark, where he could put his false face aside before the real one beneath could grow hot enough to set it afire"

"I have no opinion. No, none at all. Opinion is politics, and politics is an evil which has caused many a fellow to be hung while he's still young and pretty."

"Because often, silence is best."

"Oh, Christ. I left the world I knew to watch a kid try to put booties on a fucked-up weasel. Shoot me, Roland, before I breed."

"The scariest, most terrifying thing that I fear?""Yes.""My Imagination.""I thought you were going to say "Fear, itself.""Then you have a small imagination."

"There is no word, not even "No", in his screams at the end. He [Roland] howls like a gutted animal, his hands fused to the ball...Alain cannot pry his hands away from the ball, so instead he lays his hand on his cheek, touching him that way. Except there's nothing left to touch. Nothing left...and the thing that rides West with Cuthbert and Alain...will not be Roland, or even the Ghost of Roland. Like the moon at the end of its cycle, Roland is gone.""

"ROLAND! I LOVE THEE!"

"I do not aim with my hand; He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye.I do not shoot with my hand; He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.I do not kill with my gun; He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart."

"Jack Mort died alone."

"The stairs were choked with people who had reversed their downward course when the yelling and shooting started, obsessed with that morbid and somehow unique New Yorkers’ curiosity to see how bad, how many, how much blood spilled on the dirty concrete. Yet somehow they still found a way to shrink back from the man in the blue suit who came plunging down the stairs. It wasn’t much wonder. He was holding a gun, and another was strapped around his waist. Also, he appeared to be on fire."

"Do-Bees covered all the bases."

"There ensued a short, violent struggle. The Gunslinger won, but it was a surprisingly hard go. In his way, Jack Mort was as divided as Odetta. He was not a schizophrenic as she was; he knew well enough what he did from time to time. But he kept his secret self—the part of him that was The Pusher—as carefully locked away as an embezzler might lock away his secret skim."

"Who was to say he had not sculpted the cosmos today, or might not at some future time? God, no wonder he creamed his jeans!"

"When it came to murder, Jack Mort was an equal-opportunity employer."

"By Profession, He was a Successful C.P.A. Pushing was only his Hobby."

"I am three women…I who was; I who had no right to be but was; I am the woman you have saved. I thank you gunslinger."

"The thunder of his own guns filled him with stupid wonder."

"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."

"Later, with strange galaxies turning in slow gavotte overhead, neither thought the act of love had ever been so sweet, so full."

"“I love you, Eddie. You have tried so hard. Been so patient. So has he—” she nodded toward the place where the gunslinger lay propped against the rocks, watching. “– but he is a hard man to love.”"

"If we were going to rape you, you would be one well-raped woman by now"

"“Well,” Eddie said, “What was behind Door Number One wasn’t so hot, and what was behind Door Number Two was even worse, so now, instead of quitting like sane people, we’re going to go right ahead and check out Door Number Three. The way things have been going, I think it’s likely to be something like Godzilla or Ghidra the Three-Headed Monster, but I’m an optimist. I’m still hoping for the stainless steel cookware.”"

"If you have given up your heart for the Tower, Roland, you have already lost. A heartless creature is a loveless creature, and a loveless creature is a beast. To be a beast is perhaps bearable, although the man who has become one will surely pay hell’s own price in the end, but if you should gain your object? What if you should, heartless, storm the Dark Tower and win it? What could you do except degenerate from beast to monster? To gain one’s object as a beast would only be bitterly comic, like giving a magnifying glass to an elephaunt. But to gain one’s object as a monster…To pay hell is one thing. But do you want to own it?"

"“Won’t somebody please explain where I am and how I got here?” the woman in the wheelchair asked – almost pleaded.“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Dorothy,” Eddie said. “You ain’t in Kansas anymore.”"

""God pisses down the back of your neck every day but only drowns you once"."

"In a world that was clearly going to hell head-first, what was so low about getting high?"

"Fault always lies in the same place, my fine babies: with him weak enough to lay blame."

"You’re a Tower Junkie, Roland."

"There are people who need people to need them. The reason you don’t understand is because you’re not one of those people. You’d use me and then toss me away like a paper bag if that’s what it came down to. God fucked you, my friend. You’re just smart enough so it would hurt you to do that, and just hard enough so you’d go ahead and do it anyway. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. If I was lying on the beach there and screaming for help, you’d walk over me as if I was between you and your goddamn Tower."

"“Who are you?” Eddie screams at him.“Your destiny, Eddie,” the gunslinger whispers."

""Jesus Christ, when these DO shoot, they really blow holes in things"."

"Good. Call it fluttergork if you want, pr... Eddie. Just do it"

"As Henry Dean, the great sage and eminent junkie would have put it, Flip-flop, hippety-hop, offa your rocker and over the top, life’s a fiction and the world’s a lie, so put on some Creedence and let’s get high."

"When the only fast way you could get rid of the monkey on your back was to snap your spinal cord above that bunch of nerves, you were dealing with one heavy monkey."

"The door had hinges, but they were fastened to nothing—or so it seems, the gunslinger thought. This is a mystery, a most marvelous mystery, but does it really matter? You are dying. Your own mystery—the only one that really matters to any man or woman in the end—approaches."

"Had he come this far just to die, then? He would not. And if he were to die in spite of his determination, he would die on his way to the Tower."

"Suppose that all worlds, all universes, met at a single nexus, a single pylon, a Tower. And within it, a stairway, perhaps rising to the Godhead itself. Would you dare climb to the top, gunslinger? Could it be that somewhere above all of endless reality, there exists a room?..."You dare not."And in the gunslinger's mind, those words echoed: You dare not."

"Perhaps you saw what place our universe plays in the scheme of things—as no more than an atom in a blade of grass. Could it be that everything we can perceive, from the microscopic virus to the distant Horsehead Nebula, is contained in one blade of grass that may have existed for only a single season in an alien time-flow? What if that blade should be cut off by a scythe? When it begins to die, would the rot seep into our universe and our own lives, turning everything yellow and brown and desiccated? Perhaps it's already begun to happen. We say the world has moved on; maybe we really mean that it has begun to dry up."Think how small such a concept of things make us, gunslinger! If a God watches over it all, does He actually mete out justice for such a race of gnats? Does His eye see the sparrow fall when the sparrow is less than a speck of hydrogen floating disconnected in the depth of space? And if He does see... what must the nature of such a God be? Where does He live? How is it possible to live beyond infinity?"