We each owe a death, there are no exceptions, I know that, but sometimes, oh God, the Green Mile is so long.

Let’s talk, you and I. Let’s talk about fear. The house is empty as I write this; a cold February rain is falling outside. It’s night. Sometimes when the wind blows the way it’s blowing now, we lose the power. But for now it’s on, and so let’s talk very honestly about fear. Let’s talk very rationally about moving to the rim of madnessand... and perhaps over the edge.

The sun was a molten coin burning a circle in the low-hanging overcast, surrounded by a fairy-ring of moisture.

There's a Mr. Hyde for every happy Jekyll face, a dark face on the other side of the mirror.

The dream might have been more than a dream. It was as if a door in the wall of reality had come ajar... and now all sorts of unwelcome things were flying through.

I hold to no God," Roland said. "I hold to the Tower, and won't pray to that.

They were trying to run, trying to hide. But the rock would not hide them; the dead tree gave no shelter.