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.
CORMAC MCCARTHYEver dumb thing I ever done in my life there was a decision I made before that got me into it. It was never the dumb thing. It was always some choice I’d made before it.
More Cormac McCarthy Quotes
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It is personal. That’s what an education does. It makes the world personal.
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There’s a difference between quittin and knowin when you’re beat.
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And 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.
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What joins men together is not the sharing of bread but the sharing of enemies.
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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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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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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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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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There is no later. This is later.
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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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There is no God and we are his prophets.
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By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.
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When you die it’s the same as if everybody else did too.
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The closest bonds we will ever know are bonds of grief. The deepest community one of sorrow.
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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.
CORMAC MCCARTHY