We think we are the victims of time. In reality, the way of the world isn’t fixed anywhere. How could that be possible? We are our own journey. And therefore we are time as well. We are the same. Fugitive. Inscrutable. Ruthless.
CORMAC MCCARTHYI can normally tell how intelligent a man is by how stupid he thinks I am.
More Cormac McCarthy Quotes
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You have to carry the fire.” I don’t know how to.” Yes, you do.” Is the fire real? The fire?” Yes it is.” Where is it? I don’t know where it is.” Yes you do. It’s inside you. It always was there. I can see it.
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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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Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.
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Life is brief and to have to spend every day of it doing what somebody else wants you to do is not the way to live it.
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If only my heart were stone.
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Words pale and lose their savor while pain is always new.
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He said that those who have endured some misfortune will always be set apart but that it is just that misfortune which is their gift and which is their strength.
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People were 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.
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I always thought when I got older that God would sort of come into my life in some way. He didn’t. I don’t blame him. If I was him I’d have the same opinion about me that he does.
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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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The frailty of everything revealed at last. Old and troubling issues resolved into nothingness and night. The last instance of a thing takes the class with it. Turns out the light and is gone. Look around you. Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.
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They spoke less and less between them until at last they were silent altogether as is often the way with travelers approaching the end of a journey.
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Acts have their being in the witness. Without him who can speak of it? In the end one could even say that the act is nothing, the witness all.
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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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Notions of chance and fate are the preoccupations of men engaged in rash undertakings.
CORMAC MCCARTHY