The small wad of burning paper drew down to a wisp of flame and then died out leaving a faint pattern for… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Fear of an enemy can often blind men to other hazards, not least the shape which they themselves make in the world. — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
If people knew the story of their lives how many would then elect to live them? People speak about what is in… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Rage is really only for the good days. The truth is there's little of that left. the truth is that the forms… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Our waking life's desire to shape the world to our convenience invites all manner of paradox and difficulty. — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Because the question for me was always whether that shape we see in our lives was there from the beginning or whether… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
“He spoke of his campaigns in the deserts of Mexico and he told them of horses killed under him and he said… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
The night is quiet. Like a camp before battle. The city beset by a thing unknown and will it come from forest… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Every moment in your life is a turning and every one a choosing. Somewhere you made a choice. All followed to this.… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Men say they only learn this but he said that no creature can learn that which his heart has no shape to… — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
Things separate from their stories have no meaning. They are only shapes. Of a certain size and color. A certain weight. When… — 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
