The Tower. He would come to the Dark Tower and there he would sing their names; there he would sing their names; there he would sing all their names. The sun stained the east a dusky rose, and at last Roland, no longer the last gunslinger but one of the last three, slept and dreamed his angry dreams through which there ran only that one soothing blue thread: There I will sing all their names!

The first real terror struck him then, and there was nothing supernatural about it. It was only a realization of how easy it was to trash your life. That was what was so scary. You just dragged the fan up to everything you had spent the years raking together and turned the motherfucker on.

the man in black travels with your soul in his pocket.

Take the dead from the dead, the old proverb said; only a corpse may speak true prophecy.

On the subject of love at first sight, I’m with the Beatles: I believe that it happens all the time.

An idea is like a cold germ: sooner or later someone always catches it.

...maybe the world needs a cadre of smartasses to liven things up, who knows?