By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
CORMAC MCCARTHYBy day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
More Cormac McCarthy Quotes
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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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She said that these were things all women knew yet seldom spoke of. Lastly she said that if women were drawn to rash men it was only that in their secret hearts they knew that a man who would not kill for them was of no use at all.
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If you think about some of the things that are being talked about by thoughtful, intelligent scientists, you realize that in 100 years the human race won’t even be recognizable.
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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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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.
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I got what I needed instead of what I wanted and that’s just about the best kind of luck you can have.
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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.
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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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Somewhere in the world is the most invincible man. Just as somewhere is the most vulnerable.
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I can normally tell how intelligent a man is by how stupid he thinks I am.
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I’ve seen the meanness of humans till I don’t know why God ain’t put out the sun and gone away.
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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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How does a man decide in what order to abandon his life?
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You think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday don’t count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it’s made out of. Nothin else.
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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.
CORMAC MCCARTHY







