Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.
CORMAC MCCARTHYAnd perhaps beyond those shrouded swells another man did walk with another child on the dead gray sands. Slept but a sea apart on another beach among the bitter ashes of the world or stood in their rags lost to the same indifferent sun.
More Cormac McCarthy Quotes
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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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There is no God and we are his prophets.
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You never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.
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The trouble with a liar is he can’t remember what he said.
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It’s not about knowing who you are. It’s about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about startin over. or anybody’s. You dont start over. That’s what it’s about. Every step you take is forever. You can’t make it go away. None of it.
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The things that I loved were very frail. Very fragile. I didn’t know that. I thought they were indestructible. They weren’t.
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Between the wish and the thing the world lies waiting.
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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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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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Notions of chance and fate are the preoccupations of men engaged in rash undertakings.
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Words pale and lose their savor while pain is always new.
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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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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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There is no later. This is later.
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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.
CORMAC MCCARTHY







