The Dark Tower VI: Song of Susannah

I refuse to believe that I was raised in Brooklyn simply because of some writer's mistake, something that will eventually be fixed in the second draft.

Anger is the most useless emotion; destructive to the mind and hurtful of the heart.

We spread the time as we can, but in the end the world takes it all back.

You doom yourselves, Susannah. You seem positively bent on it, and the root is always the same: your faith fails you, and you replace it with rational thought. But there is no love in thought, nothing that lasts in deduction, only death in rationalism.

I don't think he needs to be immortal. I think all he needs to do is to write the right story. Because some stories do live forever.

Dead, like diamonds, was forever.