Best 52 quotes in «dark tower quotes» category

Nayyup, nayyup, Ah'll not sell smokeweed to a boy. Never have done." "Good idea, too," Eddie said. "One step below devil grass, and the Surgeon General says thankya.

Liars see their own kind everywhere.

May you live long, but not in good health.

Our greatest moments of triumph are always inarticulate.

Nerves, he thought, were for people who hadn't entirely made up their minds.

Roland of Gilead responded as he ever had and ever would when such useless, mystifying questions were raised: 'Ka.

Oy?" he asked. "Will you say goodbye?" Oy looked at Roland, and for a moment the gunslinger wasn't sure he understood. Then the bumbler extended his neck and caressed the boy's cheek a last time with his tongue. "I, Ake," he said: Bye, Jake or I ache, it came to the same.

Roland’s heart seemed to twist like a rag inside his chest, and there was a moment to wonder how it could possibly go on beating in the face of this.

Save your hate for those who deserve it more.

Should you go on, you will surely be disappointed, perhaps even heartbroken. I have one key left on my belt, but all it opens is that final door, the one marked. What's behind it won't improve your love-life, grow hair on your bald spot, or add five years to your natural span (not even five minutes). 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.

Some things don't rest easy, even when they're dead. Their bones cry out from the ground.

The best part, though, was hearing my mother's voice. It was like having her again, coming out from far inside me. It hurt, of course, but more often than not the best things do, I've found. You wouldn't think it could be so, but-as the oldtimers used to say - the world's titled, and there's an end to it.

The mad King, the bad King, the sad King. Ring-a-ding-ding, all hail the King!

The folks who end up living the lives like they expected are more often than not the ones who end up takin sleepin pills or stickin the barrel of a gun in their mouths and pullin the trigger.

The 'lady' looks as if she'd be happy to fuck a rope, could she make it stand up between her thighs.

The folks who end up living the lives they expected are more often than not the ones who end up takin sleepin pills or stickin the barrel of a gun in their mouths qnd pullin the trigger.

The man in black smiled. 'Shall we tell the truth then, you and I? No more lies?' 'I thought we had been.

This is dying - I know because I've done it before.

The Tower trembles; the worlds shudder in their courses. The rose feels a chill, as of winter.

They would go down fighting, but they were going to die there. And he thought dying would be all right. It was going to break Roland's heart to lose the boy...yet he would go on. As long as the Dark Tower stood, Roland would go on. Jake looked up. "She said, 'Remember the struggle.' " "Susannah did." "Yes. She came forward. Mia let her. And the song moved Mia. She wept." "Say true?" "True. Mia, daughter of none, mother of one. And while Mia was distracted...her eyes blind with tears..." Jake looked around. Oy looked around with him, likely not searching for anything but only imitating his beloved Ake. Callahan was remembering that night on the Pavilion. The lights. The way Oy had stood on his hind legs and bowed to the folken. Susannah, singing. The lights. The dancing, Roland dancing the commala in the lights, the colored lights. Roland dancing in the white. Always Roland; and in the end, after the others had fallen, murdered away one by one in these bloody motions, Roland would remain.

Time belongs to the Tower.

Control the things you can control .

What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Everything in the Universe denies 'nothing'. To suggest an ending is the one absurdity" -The Man in Black from Stephen King's The Gunslinger

You can rank me to the dogs and back, but I'll never lose the hard-on I use to fuck your mother.

You'll live in exile and die as you lived.

You see? Size defeats us. For the fish, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box abd cover it with wet weeds to die? Or one might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity.

Any statement beginning with the words 'In truth' is almost always a lie.

Time is a thief of memory

What heart I have is yours.

The greatest mystery the universe offers is not life but Size.

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

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.

There will be water if God wills it.

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.

What if I fall?', Tim cried. Maerlyn laughed. 'Sooner or later, we all do.

Are you a gunslinger, Roland? If you are, you better get ready.

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

Long days and pleasant nights

All of Mid-World had become one vast haunted mansion in these strange latter days; all of Mid-World had become The Drawers; all of Mid-World had become a waste land, haunting and haunted.

And he thought that, had he been wearing his guns, he might well have drawn one and put a bullet in Susan Delgado's cold and whoring little heart.

He looked so strange without his guns. So wrong. 'Okay? Now that the numb-fuck apprentices have the guns and the master's unarmed, can we please go? If something big comes out of the bush at us, Roland, you can always throw your knife at it.' 'Oh, that,' he murmured. 'I almost forgot.' He took the knife from his purse and held it out, hilt first, to Eddie. 'This is ridiculous!' Eddie shouted. 'Life is ridiculous.' 'Yeah, put it on a postcard and send it to the fucking Reader's Digest.' Eddie jammed the knife into his belt and then looked defiantly at Roland. 'Now can we go?' 'There is one more thing,' Roland said. 'Weeping, creeping Jesus!' The smile touched Roland's mouth again. 'Just joking,' he said. Eddie's mouth dropped open. Beside him, Susannah began to laugh again. The sound rose, as musical as bells, in the morning stillness.

Certainly she had little experience of the world (Aunt Cord reminded her of this almost daily), but She had an idea that people who set on by saying Let me be honest with you were apt to go on by telling you straight-faced that rain fell up, money grew on trees, and babies were brought by the Grand Featherex.

Dad-a-dhuck, dad-a-churtle, don't worry, girl, you've got the turtle!

Do any of us, except in our dreams, truly expect to be reunited with our hearts' deepest loves, even when they leave us only for minutes, and on the most mundane of errands? No, not at all.

But I still think that’s a pretty fine age. Maybe the best age. You can rock and roll all night, but when the music dies out and the beer wears off, you’re able to think. And dream big dreams. The mean Patrol Boy cuts you down to size eventually, and if you start out small, why, there’s almost nothing left but the cuffs of your pants when he’s done with you.

I am Roland of Gilead. And you . . . you are nothing.

How infinite was love, twining in and out of hope and memory like a braid with three strong strands, so much the Bright Tower of every human's life and soul.

I kill with my heart, motherfucker

If he came upon us burning in the street, I don't think he'd piss on us to put us out.

If,' Roland said. 'An old teacher of mine used to call it the only word a thousand letters long.