The Dark Tower. Book 4. Wizard and Glass

he had discovered, as many others had before him, that only the first cussword is really hard; after that, there’s nothing quite like them for relieving one’s feelings.

Jake was munching the single leftover burrito, but probably for the same reason folks climbed Mount Everest . . . because it was there

Then Aunt Cord had smiled. A real smile. What hurt Susan the most, confused her the most, was that her aunt was no cradle-story ogre, no witch like Rhea of the Cöos. There was no monster here, only a maiden lady with some few social pretensions, a love of gold and silver, and a fear of being turned out, penniless, into the world.

“I have no opinion,” Cuthbert said brightly. “No, none at all. Opinion is politics, and politics is an evil which has caused many a fellow to be hung while he’s still young and pretty.”

It was a sad thought . . . but this was a sad world