The Dark Tower. Book 7. The Dark Tower

Endings are heartless.
Ending is just another word for goodbye.

Yet some of you who have provided the ears without which no tale can survive a single day are likely not so willing. You are the grim, goal-oriented ones who will not believe that the joy is in the journey rather than the destination no matter how many times it has been proven to you. You are the unfortunate ones who still get the lovemaking all confused with the paltry squirt that comes to end the lovemaking (the orgasm is, after all, God’s way of telling us we’ve finished, at least for the time being, and should go to sleep). You are the cruel ones who deny the Grey Havens, where tired characters go to rest. You say you want to know how it all comes out. You say you want to follow Roland into the Tower; you say that is what you paid your money for, the show you came to see.

Spark-a-dark, who’s my sire? Will I lay me? Will I stay me? Bless this camp with fire

Ka-tet was family.
Ka-tet was love.
To draw is to make a picture with a pencil, or maybe charcoal.
To draw is also to fascinate, to compel, and to bring forward. To bring one out of one’s self.

You were just a little more vulnerable because your sense of humor…forgive me, Roland, but as a rule, it’s pretty lame.

She tried to remember the depth of her despair, how the cold had crept into her bones, turning them to glass, and couldn’t do it. Because the body had a way of forgetting the worst things, she supposed, and without the body’s cooperation, all the brain had were memories like faded snapshots.

“No perhaps about it,” Fimalo said. “For ka is a wheel, and if a wheel be not broken, it will always roll.

a point came where one had to trust, because the alternative was madness.

“Time flies, knells call, life passes, so hear my prayer.
“Birth is nothing but death begun, so hear my prayer.
“Death is speechless, so hear my speech.”
The words drifted away into the haze of green and gold. Roland let them, then set upon the rest. He spoke more quickly now.
“This is Jake, who served his ka and his tet. Say true.
“May the forgiving glance of S’mana heal his heart. Say please.
“May the arms of Gan raise him from the darkness of this earth. Say please.
“Surround him, Gan, with light.
“Fill him, Chloe, with strength.
“If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
“If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
“May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let every one whose name he calls call his in return.
“This is Jake, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
“Each man owes a death. This is Jake. Give him peace.”

He had already noticed that this world was full of clocks, as if the people who lived here thought that by having so many they could cage time