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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 64e7c9b | In that long ago somewhere very near this place he'd watched a falcon fall down the long blue wall of the mountain and break with the keel of its breastbone the midmost from a flight of cranes and take it to the river below all gangly and wrecked and trailing its loose and blowsy plumage in the still autumn air. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 811755e | Things separate from their stories have no meaning. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 66a87bd | The last thin paring of the old moon hung over the distant mountains to the west. Venus had moved away. With dark a gauzy swarm of stars. He could not guess what they were for so many. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 4f85351 | What joins men together is not the sharing of bread but sharing of enemies. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 82bea7a | There ain't no law in Mexico. It's just a pack of rogues. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 6c3b871 | He spoke of his campaigns in the deserts of Mexico and he told them of horses killed under him and he said that the souls of horses mirror the souls of men more closely than men suppose and that horses also love war. Men say they only learn this but he said that no creature can learn that which his heart has no shape to holo | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 9da75de | I don't see you holdin no aces. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| bf1078c | And I have to say that the only thing I can think is that there was some sort of promise in his heart. And I dont have no intentions of carvin a stone water trough. But I would like to be able to make that kind of promise. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 083e385 | The reverend waited for her to be seated and then he bowed his head and blessed the food and the table and the people sitting at it. He went on at some length and blessed everything all the way up to the country and then he blessed some other countries as well and he spoke about war and famine and the missions and other problems in the world with particular reference to Russia and the jews and cannibalism and he asked it all in Christ's nam.. | religion | Cormac McCarthy | |
| 88532fb | You dont get your black ass away from this fire I'll kill you graveyard dead. He looked to where Glanton sat. Glanton watched him. He put the pipe in his mouth and rose and took up the apishamore and folded it over his arm. Is that your final say? Final as the judgement of God. The black looked once more across the flames at Glanton and then he moved away in the dark. The white man uncocked the revolver and placed it on the ground before hi.. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| bd23d47 | Somebody has been fuckin my watermelons. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| b470eef | They rode on and the sun in the east flushed pale streaks of light and then a deeper run of color like blood seeping up in sudden reaches flaring planewise and where the earth drained up into the sky at the edge of creation the top of the sun rose out of nothing like the head of a great red phallus until it cleared the unseen rim and sat squat and pulsing and malevolent behind them. The shadows of the smallest stones lay like pencil lines a.. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 5a77c88 | Such a man is like a dreamer who wakes from a dream of grief to a greater sorrow yet. All that he loves is now become a torment to him. The pin has been pulled from the axis of the universe. Whatever one takes one's eye from threatens to flee away. Such a man is lost to us. He moves and speaks. But he is himself less than the merest shadow among all that he beholds. There is no picture of him possible. The smallest mark upon the page exagge.. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 89d576e | Words are things. The words he is in possession of he cannot be deprived of. Their authority transcends his ignorance of their meaning. | semantics words | Cormac McCarthy | |
| 6070435 | In the grueling light that passed for day... | life-and-death | Cormac McCarthy | |
| 96945dd | Hear me, man, he said. There is room on the stage for one beast and one alone. All others are destined for a night that is eternal and without name. One by one they will step down into the darkness before the footlamps. Bears that dance, bears that don't. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| a364b74 | Gray vines coiled leftward in this northern hemisphere, what winds them shapes the dogwhelk's shell. Weeds sprouted from cinder and brick. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| a586000 | Commend him gently, whom the wrath he suckled at his heart has wasted more than years. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| be491f5 | At our noblest we announce to the darkness that we will not be diminished by the brevity of our lives. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| aeac30b | What loomed was a flayed man with his brisket tacked open like a cooling beef and his skull peeled, blue and bulbous and palely luminescent, black grots his eyeholes and bloody mouth gaped tongueless. The traveler had seized his fingers in his jaws, but it was not alone this horror that he cried. Beyond the flayed man dimly adumbrate another figure paled, for his surgeons move about the world even as you and I. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 9a3d08c | No, Professor, it aint nothin like that. You dont have to be virtuous. You just has to be quiet. I cant speak for the Lord but the experience I've had leads me to believe that he'll speak to anybody that'll listen. You damn sure aint got to be virtuous. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| e54ac9d | Those who travel desert places do indeed meet with creatures surpassing all description. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| d1436ad | He thought the world's heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world's pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the blood of multitudes might ultimately be exacted for the vision of a single flower. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| f77d402 | The sand lay blue in the moonlight and the iron tires of the wagons rolled among the shapes of the riders in gleaming hoops that veered and wheeled woundedly and vaguely navigational like slender astrolabes and the polished shoes of the horses kept hasping up like a myriad eyes winking across the desert floor. They watched storms out there so distant they could not be heard, the silent lightning flaring sheetwise and the thin black spine of.. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 0a58be7 | I'm glad to hear you say that, Professor. Cause I aint sure either. I just get more amazed by the minute, that's all. How come you cant see yourself, honey? You plain as glass. I can see the wheels turnin in there. The gears. And I can se the light too. Good light. True light. Cant you see it? | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| d9eb699 | The stars burned with a lidless fixity and they drew nearer in the night until toward dawn he was stumbling among the whinstones of the uttermost ridge to heaven, a barren range of rock so enfolded in that gaudy house that stars lay awash at his feet and migratory spalls of burning matter crossed constantly about him on their chartless reckonings. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| d7b37db | And sleep that night on the cold plains of a foreign land, forty-six men wrapped in their blankets under the selfsame stars, the prairie wolves so like in their yammering, yet all about so changed and strange. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| d5e527b | In history there are no control groups. 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 dont 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.. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 5ed3a07 | Used to be a hobo right smart. back in the thirties. They wasnt no work I dont care what you could do. I was ridin through the mountains one night, state of Colorado. Dead of winter it was and bitter cold. I had just a smidgin of tobacco, bout enough for one or two smokes. I was in one of them old slatsided cars and I'd been up and down in it like a dog tryin to find some place where the wind wouldnt blow. Directly I scrunched up in a corne.. | fire mccarthy mountains smoke suttree winter | Cormac McCarthy | |
| 6b07ec6 | Every day is a lie, he said. But you are dying. That is not a lie. | death life post-apocalyptic road | Cormac McCarthy | |
| 88be49b | The man could hear him playing. A formless music for the age to come. Or perhaps the last music on earth called up from out of the ashes of its ruin. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 880e7cb | They set forth in a crimson dawn where sky and earth closed in a razorous plane. Out there dark little archipelagos of cloud and the vast world of sand and scrub shearing upward into the shoreless void where those blue islands trembled and the earth grew uncertain, gravely canted and veering out through tinctures of rose and the dark beyond the dawn to the uttermost rebate of space. | Cormac McCarthy | ||
| 15c65eb | MAY I BE FILLED WITH LOVING-KINDNESS MAY I BE WELL | Mike Greenberg | ||
| 1fe78c7 | Accepted nowhere, belonging nowhere, The Human Ant is forced to roam the world, half-ant, half-cow. | David Mamet | ||
| 30a5b01 | Kraus asks the question of Freudian analysis: What would be enough? At what point would talking about one's problems for x hours a week, be sufficient to bring one to a state of "normalcy"? The genius of Freudianism, Kraus writes, is not the creation of a cure, but of a disease--the universal, if intermittent, human sentiment that "something is not right," elaborated into a state whose parameters, definitions, and prescriptions are controll.. | psychology | David Mamet | |
| 30ae892 | However much our quotidian cares consume us, our dreamtime is too valuable, and will be devoted to problems not susceptible to rational consideration. | David Mamet | ||
| f965c18 | An American will fight for three things.'" "...a girl," Sam said. "Yes. A girl, himself, or 'to save the world." -- | David Mamet | ||
| 3f6a7b9 | Today, as in ancient Rome, when all avenues of success have been traveled and all prizes won, the final prize is the delusion of godhead. | David Mamet | ||
| 79ac680 | It is more frightening but it is not less productive to go your own way, to form your own theatre company, to write and stage your own plays, to make your own films. You have an enormously greater chance of eventually presenting yourself to, and eventually appealing to, an audience by striking out on your own, by making your own plays and films, than by submitting to the industrial model of the school and studio. | David Mamet | ||
| 85f0bdd | The anti-Stratfordians hold that Shakespeare didn't write Shakespeare's plays--it was another fellow of the same name, or of a different name. In this they invert the megalomaniacal equation and make themselves not the elect, but the superior of the elect. Barred from composing Shakespeare's plays by a regrettable temporal accident, they, in the fantasy of most every editor, accept the mantle of primum mobile, consign the (falsely named) cr.. | David Mamet | ||
| b53b72e | My generation has a giddy delight in dissolution. [...] To inspire the unsophisticated young to demand "change" is an easy and a cheap trick-- it was the tactic of the Communist Internationale in the thirties, another "movement.[...] We were self-taught in the sixties to award ourselves merit for membership in a superior group-irrespective of our group's accomplishments. We continue to do so, irrespective of accomplishments, individual or c.. | baby-boomers | David Mamet | |
| 7c43c3f | JOHN: You said "Good day." I think that it is a nice day today. CAROL: Is it? JOHN: Yes, I think it is. CAROL: And why is that important? JOHN: Because it is the essence of all human communication. I say something conventional, you respond, and the information we exchange is not about the "weather," but that we both agree to converse. In effect, we agree that we are both human." | David Mamet | ||
| 84803b6 | The millennia-long evolution of the human family as a means of dealing with the environment was discarded by my generation of fantasists, in favor of a concept not only artificial, but inchoate: "freedom"--the pursuit of which has led to misery." | David Mamet | ||
| a3639ec | Putting a book together is interesting and exhilarating. It is sufficiently difficult and complex and it engages all your intelligence. It is life at its most free. Your freedom as a writer is not freedom of expression in the sense of wild blurting; you may not let it rip. It is life at its most free, if you are fortunate enough to be able to try it, because you select your materials, invent your task, and pace yourself. | writing writing-life | Annie Dillard |