Somewhere in the world is the most invincible man. Just as somewhere is the most vulnerable.
CORMAC MCCARTHYNotions of chance and fate are the preoccupations of men engaged in rash undertakings.
More Cormac McCarthy Quotes
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The road has its own reasons and no two travelers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all.
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I think by the time you’re grown you’re as happy as you’re goin to be. You’ll have good times and bad times, but in the end you’ll be about as happy as you was before. Or as unhappy. I’ve knowed people that just never did get the hang of it.
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Remember her hair in the morning before it was pinned, black, rampant, savage with loveliness. As if she slept in perpetual storm.
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What joins men together is not the sharing of bread but the sharing of enemies.
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All the time you spend tryin to get back what’s been took from you there’s more goin out the door. After a while you just try and get a tourniquet on it.
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One of the things you realize about gettin older is that not everybody is goin to get older with you.
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My perfect day is sitting in a room with some blank paper. That’s heaven. That’s gold, and anything else is just a waste of time.
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By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
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The things I believed in dont exist any more. It’s foolish to pretend that they do. Western Civilization finally went up in smoke in the chimneys at Dachau but I was too infatuated to see it. I see it now.
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He stood at the window of the empty cafe and watched the activites in the square and he said that it was good that God kept the truths of life from the young as they were starting out or else they’d have no heart to start at all.
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Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.
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Deep in each man is the knowledge that something knows of his existence. Something knows, and cannot be fled nor hid from.
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Words pale and lose their savor while pain is always new.
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Between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting.
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How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.
CORMAC MCCARTHY