“That he could not enkindle in the heart of the child what was ashes in his own.” — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
What could a child know of the darkness of God's plan? Or how flesh is so frail it is hardly more than… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“In the nights in their thousands to dream the dreams of a child’s imaginings, worlds rich or fearful such as might offer… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“The incinerate corpses shrunk to the size of a child and propped on the bare springs of the seats. Ten thousand dreams… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
He could not construct for the child's pleasure the world he'd lost without constructing the loss as well and he thought perhaps… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
To have a child when you're older, it wrenches you up out of your nap and makes you look at things, you… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
See the hand that nursed the serpent. The fine hasped pipes of her fingerbones. The skin bewenned and speckled. The veins are… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
I remember in grammar school the teacher asked if anyone had any hobbies. I was the only one with any hobbies and… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Only now is the child finally divested of all that he has been. His origins are become remote as is his destiny… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“In the dream from which he'd wakened he had wandered in a cave where the child led him by the hand. Their… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
This is my child, he said. I wash a dead man's brains out of his hair. That is my job. — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
See the child. He is pale and thin, he wears a thin and ragged linen shirt. He stokes the scullery fire. — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“the child would ask him questions about the world that for him was not even a memory. He thought hard how to… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
He knew only that his child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke. — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“Dope. They sell that shit to schoolkids. It's worse than that. How's that? Schoolkids buy it.” — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
And perhaps beyond those shrouded swells another man did walk with another child on the dead gray sands. Slept but a sea… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“So what is the way of raising a child? At a young age, said the judge, they should be put in a… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“I think the truth is always simple. It has pretty much got to be. It needs to be simple enough for a… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“It had grown cold in the night but he was numb with other weathers. An equinox in the heart, ill change, unluck.… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“He turned and looked at the boy. Maybe he understood for the first time that to the boy he was himself an… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“The world soon to be largely populated by men who would eat your children in front of your eyes and the cities… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
The cooler days have brought a wistful mood upon him. The smell of coalsmoke in the air at night. Old times, dead years. For… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“The events of the world can have no separate life from the world. And yet the world itself can have no temporal view of… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“I had two dreams about him after he died. I dont remember the first one all that well but it was about meetin him… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“You think people was meaner then than they are now? the deputy said. The old man was looking out at the flooded town. No,… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“They set forth in a crimson dawn where sky and earth closed in a razorous plane. Out there dark little archipelagos of cloud and… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“Nothing. Where all was burnt to ash before them no fires were to be had and the nights were long and dark and cold… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
He said that whether a man's life was writ in a book someplace or whether it took its form day by day was one… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“He lives in a room above a courtyard behind a tavern and he comes down at night like some fairybook beast to fight with… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“Ultimo hombre. Last man standing, must've been one. Where'd he go?” — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“To seek out the upright. No fall but preceded by a declination. He took great marching steps into the nothingness, counting them against his… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“They went through the last of the cars and then walked up the track to the locomotive and climbed up to the catwalk. Rust… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“Night fell upon them dark and starblown and the wagon grew swollen near mute with dew. On their chairs in such black immobility these… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
