The Dark Tower Bot

Here is another one ready to die for you, Roland. What great wrong did you ever do that you should inspire such terrible loyalty in so many?

Twelve years after his last glimpse, Roland had seen him close-up again, had spoken to him. And the man in black had laughed.

'Why do you keep looking back there?' the guy in charge had asked.
'From time to time I need an antidote,' Eddie said.
'From what?'
'Your face.'

And will I tell you that these three lived happily ever after? I will not, for no one ever does. But there was happiness. And they did live.

He cried out but his cry was lost in the golden blast of some tremendous horn. It came from the top of the Tower, and seemed to fill the world.

Commala-me-mine
You have to walk the line.
When you finally get the thing you need
It makes you feel so fine.

I think telling stories is like pushing something. Pushing against uncreation itself, maybe.

You’re a long way from Forty-second Street, sweetheart—hope is a great thing, no matter what anyone says, but don’t hope so hard you lose sight of that one thought: you’re a long way from Forty-second Street.

Time is a face on the water.

We go to seek a better world. May you find one, as well.

The first is young, dark-haired. He stands on the brink of robbery and murder. A demon has infested him. The name of the demon is HEROIN.

And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

Look not long at what’s offered, for every precious thing has wings and may fly away.

The two most beautiful words in any language are: I forgive.

A person’s never too old for stories. Man and boy, girl and woman, we live for them.

You’re a long way from Forty-second Street, sweetheart—hope is a great thing, no matter what anyone says, but don’t hope so hard you lose sight of that one thought: you’re a long way from Forty-second Street.

Good days and long nights to ya, sai.

Commala-come-six!
Nothing there but thorns and sticks!
When your find your hand in traitor’s glove
You’re in a nasty fix.

'Coincidence has been cancelled, honey,' Susannah said.
'What we’re living in these days is more like the Charles Dickens version of reality.'

Look not long at what’s offered, for every precious thing has wings and may fly away.

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

Commala-come-key
Can you tell me what ya see?
Is it ghosts or just the mirror
That makes ya wanna flee?

I hold to no God,” Roland said, “I hold to the Tower and won’t pray to that.

Those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.

Commala-come-ki,
There’s a time to live and one to die.
With your back against the final wall
Ya gotta let the bullets fly.

No reason to get excited
The thief, he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke

He walked out of nowhere toward nowhere, a man from another time who, it seemed, had reached a point of pointless ending.

Just where had he been all of his goddamned life? Where had he been, what had he been doing, who had been with him while he did it, and why did he suddenly feel so grimy and abysmally beshitted?

Look not long at what’s offered, for every precious thing has wings and may fly away.

Commala-come-eight!
The hour groweth late!
No matter what shade ya cast
You’re in the hands of fate.