It’s a poor boy sanditch, with lots of mayo, whatever that is. I’d want a sauce that didn’t look quite so much like come, myself, but may it do ya fine.
“
| — |
Roland to Eddie, Dark Tower VII
|
Good. Call it fluttergork if you want, pr… Eddie. Just do it.
“
| — |
Roland Deschain, The Drawing of the Three
|
Why did the dead baby cross the road? … Because it was stapled to the chicken, you dopey fuck!
“
| — |
Eddie Dean, Wizard and Glass
|
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.
“
| — |
Eddie Dean, Song of Susannah
|
WHAT DOES THAT SIGNIFY, FOOLISH CREATURE?”
“It’s the world’s smallest violin, playing ‘My Heart Pumps Purple Piss for You.’
“
| — |
Blaine the Mono and Eddie Dean, Wizard and Glass
|
And really, what could be so special about the number nineteen? Mystery Number, indeed.
“
| — |
Eddie Dean, Wolves of the Calla
|
Wow. This makes grand central look like a bus stop in Buttfuck Nebraska.
“
| — |
Eddie Dean, The Waste Lands
|
Oh, Christ. I left the world I knew to watch a kid try to put booties on a fucked-up weasel. Shoot me, Roland, before I breed.
“
| — |
Eddie Dean, Wizard and Glass
|
I love you, Eddie. You have tried so hard. Been so patient. So has he - ” she nodded toward the place where the gunslinger lay propped against the rocks, watching. “– but he is a hard man to love.
“
| — |
The Drawing of the Three
|
Who are you?” Eddie screams at him.
“Your destiny, Eddie,” the gunslinger whispers.
“
| — |
The Drawing of the Three
|
