“Don’t you see the inevitability of this moment? I mean we’re talking serious process here, man. The perfect critic stepping forth from the demimonde of the war and blowing the heart of the painting to rubble, and then turning his weapon on the man whose actions have been the pure contrary of the work’s formal imperative.’ ‘I’m outta film,’ said the mestizo cameraman.”

“Just ’cause I’m the picture of manly perfection doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain.”

“A voice spoke. It sounded like a lion would speak, if it could talk. I WARNED YOU!In a way that would probably have been comic to watch, Lucinda and I turned, slowly, to see Spider the cat sitting between us and the door.‘The cat just spoke,’ said Lucinda blankly.‘I know,’ I said.‘Cats don’t talk.’‘I know that, too.’I’m not a cat. And I told you to stay away from here.”

“Wednesday was talking to him. “I’m sorry?” said Shadow. “I said we’re here,” said Wednesday. “You were somewhere else.”

“I see perfection in pure action!”

“What’s that mean?” Eddie asked. “I hate it when you start up with your Zen Buddhist shit, Roland.” “It means I don’t know,” Roland said. “Who is this man Zen Buddhist? Is he wise like me?” Eddie looked at Roland for a long, long time before deciding the gunslinger was making one of his rare jokes. “Ah, get outta here...”