The Dark Tower. Book 1. The Gunslinger

crevices

Only enemies speak the truth. Friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty.”

Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?

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

Go then. There are other worlds than these.”

Given time, words may even enchant an enchanter.

A play was being enacted there for his amusement Worlds rose and fell before him. Empires were built across shining sands where forever machines toiled in abstract electronic frenzies. Empires declined and fell. Wheels that had spun like silent liquid moved more slowly, began to squeak, began to scream, stopped. Sand choked the stainless steel gutters of concentric streets below dark skies full of stars like beds of cold jewels. And through it all, a dying wind of change blew, bringing with it the cinnamon smell of late October. The gunslinger watched as the world moved on.

barrel of the gun

He was like something out of a fairytale or a myth, the last of his breed in a world that was writing the last page of its book

The stars were as indifferent to this as they were to wars, crucifixions, resurrections.