• And if you spare a last thought, maybe it's ghosts you wonder about...the ghosts of children standing in the water at sunset, standing in a circle, standing with their hands joined together, their faces young, sure, but tough...tough enough, anyway, to give birth to the people they will become, tough enough to understand, maybe, that the people they will become must necessarily birth the people they were before they can get on with trying to understand simple mortality. The circle closes, the wheel rolls, and that's all there is. (Pg 1469)

• But it's nice to think so for awhile in the morning's clean silence, to think that childhood has its own sweet secrets and confirms mortality, and that mortality defines all courage and love. To think that what has looked forward must also look back, and that each life makes its own imitation of immortality: a wheel. 

  Or so Bill Denbrough sometimes thinks on those early mornings after dreaming, when he almost remembers his childhood, and the people with whom he shared it. (Pg 1473)

                                                                             ——Stephen King