Cormac McCarthy Quotes
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And as he lay there a far crack of lightning went bluely down the sky and bequeathed him in an embryonic bird's first fissured vision of the world and transpiring instant and outrageous from dark to dark a final view of the grotto and the shapeless white plasm struggling upon the rich and incunabular moss like a lank swamp hare.
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Our waking life's desire to shape the world to our convenience invites all manner of paradox and difficulty.
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The old man … said … the notion that men can be understood was probably an illusion.
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You think about all that stuff that can happen to you, he said. There aint no end to it.
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I know your kind, he said. What’s wrong with you is wrong all the way through you.
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I aint got all that many regrets. I could imagine lots of things that you might think would make a man happier. 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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People see what they want to see.
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There aint but one truth, said John Grady. The truth is what happened. It aint what come out of somebody's mouth.
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You do not know what things you set in motion, he said. No man can know. No prophet foresee. The consequences of an act are often quite different from what one would guess. You must be sure that the intention in your heart is large enough to contain all wrong turnings, all disappointments. Do you see? Not everything has such value.
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Men are made of the dust of the earth.
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This is a terrible place to die in.Where’s a good one?
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Somewhere in the gray wood by the river is the huntsman and in the brooming corn and in the castellated press of cities. His work lies all wheres and his hounds tire not. I have seen them in a dream, slaverous and wild and their eyes crazed with ravening for souls in this world. Fly them.
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You are the oveja negre, no? The black sheep?
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For the Earth is a globe in a void the truth there's no up nor down to it.
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What man would not be a dancer if he could, said the judge. It’s a great thing, the dance.
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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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My book or some other book said the judge. What is to be deviates no jot from the book wherein it's writ. How could it? It would be a false book and a false book is no book at all.
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It's a life's work to see yourself for what you really are and even then you might be wrong.
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It takes very little to govern good people. Very little. And bad people cant be governed at all. Or if they could I never heard of it.
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How many is there, John?.Did you learn to whisper in a sawmill?
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He lay in the dark thinking of all the things he did not know about his father and he realised that the father he knew was all the father he would ever know.
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Drink up, he said. Drink up. This night thy soul may be required of thee. - The judge
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He can neither read nor write and in him already there broods a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.
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Jackson, pistols drawn, lurched into the street vowing to shoot the ass off Jesus Christ, the longlegged white son of a bitch.