|
89cf903
|
The woman when she saw him put her arms around him and held him. Oh, she said, I am so glad to see you. She would talk to him sometimes about God. He tried to talk to God but the best thing was to talk to his father and he did talk to him and he didn't forget. The woman said that was all right. She said that the breath of God was his breath yet though it pass from man to man through all of time.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
d983ed9
|
He had a tattoo of a bird on his neck done by someone with an ill-formed notion of their appearance.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
06edb82
|
In the nights sometimes now he'd wake in the back and freezing waste out of softly colored worlds of human love, the songs of birds, the sun.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
265d4da
|
I tell you this, as war becomes
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e5f9866
|
No man is give leave of that voice. The kid spat into the fire and bent to his work. I aint heard no voice, he said. When it stops, said Tobin, you'll know you've heard it all your life.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
2c8a2a2
|
Me preguntaba de que soy profesor. Bien, yo profeso la oscuridad. Esa noche disfrazada de dia. Y ahora, le deseo lo mejor pero debo irme.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
4baf025
|
But that man who sets himself the task of singling out the thread of order from the tapestry (of life) will by the decision alone have taken charge of the world and it is only by such taking charge of the world that he will effect a way to dictate the terms of his own fate.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
cf74842
|
He's just a good all-around horse. He aint a finished horse but I think he'll make a cow horse. I'm pleased to hear it. Of course your preference is for one that'll bow up like a bandsaw and run head first into the barn wall. John Grady smiled. Horse of my dreams, he said. It aint exactly like that. How is it then? I don't know. I think it's just somethin you like. Or don't like. You can add up all of a horse's good points on a sheet of pa..
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
3fc5dcf
|
The breath of God was his yet, though it pass from man to man through all of time.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
4be2917
|
Gray vines coiled leftward in this northern hemisphere, what winds them shapes the dogwhelk's shell.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
7172f6e
|
Your kinda weirded out, ain't ya?
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
22eb202
|
Other than a light beading of sweat on his forehead there was little evidence that his labors had cost him anything at all.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
01edba1
|
He sat leaning forward in the seat with his elbows on the empty seatback in front of him and his chin on his forearms and he watched the play with great intensity. He'd notion that there would be something in the story itself to tell him about the way the world was or was becoming but there was not. There was nothing in it at all.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
940a0f4
|
The crumpled butcherpaper mountains lay in sharp shadowfold under the long blue dusk and in the middle distance the glazed bed of a dry lake lay shimmering like the mare imbrium and herds of deer were moving north in the last of the twilight, harried over the plain by wolves who were themselves the color of the desert floor.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
1f2c607
|
That's so, said the judge. They do not have to have a reason. But order is not set aside because of their indifference.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e729f10
|
The cap was gone and the man dropped to his elbows to smell the pipe but the odor of gas was only a rumor, faint and stale.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
920e3d1
|
The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place in the iron dark of the world.
|
|
cormac-mccarthy
john-dunn
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e78d9ff
|
People were always getting ready for tomorrow.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
3ca2626
|
The man's labor that did the work is in the work. You can't make it go away. Even if it's paid for it's still there. If ownership lies in the benefit to a man then the mason owns all the work he does in the world and you caint put that claim aside nor quit it and it don't make no difference whose name is on the paper.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
bd915a7
|
Most people'll run from their own mother to get to hug death by the neck. They cant wait to see him.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
916032e
|
He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
15da115
|
I should have done it a long time ago. When there were three bullets in the gun instead of two. I was stupid. We've been over all of this. I didnt bring myself to this. I was brought. And now I'm done. I thought about not even telling you. That would probably have been best. You have two bullets and then what? You cant protect us. You say you would die for us but what good is that? I'd take him with me if it werent for you. You know I would..
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
58c2181
|
Life is being in bed with you. Everything else is just waiting.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
f3e1165
|
War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is God.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
1481c66
|
There is no one to tell us what might have been. We weep over the might have been, but there is no might have been. There never was. It is supposed to be true that those who do not know history are condemned to repeat it. I don't believe knowing can save us. What is constant in history is greed and foolishness and a love of blood and this is a thing that even God- who knows all that can be known- seems powerless to change.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e3e6e31
|
Se quedo escuchando el goteo del agua en el bosque. Lecho rocoso, este. El frio y el silencio. Las cenizas del mundo difunto trajinadas de aca para alla por los crudos y transitorios vientos en el vacio. Llevadas, esparcidas y llevadas de nuevo. Todo desencajado de su apuntalamiento. Sin soporte en el viento cinereo. Sostenido por una respiracion, temblorosa y breve. Ojala mi corazon fuese de piedra.
|
|
la-carretera
mccarthy
the-road
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
2ff72b0
|
She looks like her face caught fire and they beat it out with a rake
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
d77754d
|
Anyway, you never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
f42ad2d
|
The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
a252847
|
The uncle lit up and blew smoke in a thin blue viper's breath toward the window. It coiled and diffused in the yellow light. He smiled. I'd like to have a dollar for every time I quit, he said.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
210c324
|
Ten thousand dreams ensepulchered within their crozzled hearts.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e113b38
|
I remember back a number of years, talkin about fairs, they had a old boy come through would shoot live pigeons with ye. Him with a rifle and you with a shotgun. Or anything else. He must of had a truckload of pigeons. Had a boy out in the middle of a field with a crateful and he'd holler and the boy'd let one slip and he'd raise his rifle and blam, he'd dust it. Misters, he could strictly make the feathers fly. We'd never seen the like of ..
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e0b77fa
|
Our waking life's desire to shape the world to our convenience invites all manner of paradox and difficulty. All in our custody seethes with an inner restlessness. But in dreams we stand in this great democracy of the possible and there we are right pilgrims indeed. There we go forth to meet what we shall meet.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
68857d7
|
If he is not the word of God God never spoke
|
|
religious-faith
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
22c2b9b
|
It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. ... War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way...
|
|
warriors
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
39fc0ce
|
People are always getting ready for tomorrow. I didn't believe in that. Tomorrow wasn't getting ready for them. It didn't even know they were there.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
2484fed
|
Do you remember that little boy, Papa? Yes. I remember him. Do you think he's all right that little boy? Oh yes. I think he's all right. Do you think he was lost? No. I don't think he was lost. I'm scared that he was lost. I think he's all right. But who will find him if he's lost? Who will find that little boy? Goodness will find the little boy. It always has. It will again.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
4f7ba88
|
The man thought he seemed some sad and solitary changeling child announcing the arrival of a traveling spectacle in shire and village who does not know that behind him the players have all been carried off by wolves.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
1bf53ab
|
The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
1fa559a
|
The flames sawed in the wind and the embers paled and deepened and paled and deepened like the bloodbeat of some living thing eviscerate upon the ground before them and they watched the fire which does contain within it something of men themselves inasmuch as they are less without it and are divided from their origins and are exiles. For each fire is all fires, the first fire and the last ever to be.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
e5a7239
|
Men are born for games. Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of a game is not inherent in the game itself but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
8295043
|
He walked to the top of a rise and crouched and watched the day accrue. The chary dawn, the cold illucid world.
|
|
the-road
pretentious
morning
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
331e19f
|
Beware, gentle knight. There is no greater monster than reason.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |
|
0032ffa
|
He looked like he was studying something small in the grass.
|
|
|
Cormac McCarthy |