Quotes from Cormac McCarthy

Esquecemo-nos de algumas coisas, não é? Sim. Esquecemo-nos do que queríamos recordar e recordamos o que queríamos esquecer.

My life is ghastly

the sun rose and the river ran as before but nothing was the same nor did he think it ever would be.

Sheddan pulled at his cigar. He shook his head. Not even all that sexy a woman. Goodlooking but in an odd way. Incisors like a Jurassic cat. A man shouldnt ignore a thing like that. Pleistocene What? Pleistocene. Cat. Yes, well. Find me something that alliterates.

They stood among their horses in the squalid little alameda while the wind ransacked the trees and the birds nesting in the gray twilight cried out and clutched the limbs and the snow swirled and blew across the little square and shrouded the shapes of the mud buildings beyond and made mute the cries of the vendors who'd followed them.

they had drawn about them a following of rabble unmatched for variety and sordidness by any they had yet encountered

When they brought Blevins back he sat in the corner and didnt speak. John Grady talked with the old man. His name was Orlando. He didnt know what crime he was accused of. He'd been told he could go when he signed the papers but he couldnt read the papers and no one would read them to him. He didnt know how long he'd been here. Since sometime in the winter. While they were talking the guards came again and the old man shut up.

Dont you just love the taste of ozone? Like a fucking zinc milkshake.

The ragged sparks blew down the wind. The prairie about them lay silent. Beyond the fire it was cold and the night was clear and the stars were falling. The old hunter pulled his blanket about him. I wonder if there's other worlds like this, he said. Or if this is the only one.

When people want to be reimbursed for their pain they seldom are.

I think the notion that the species can be improved in some way, that everyone could live in harmony, is a really dangerous idea. Those who are afflicted with this notion are the first ones to give up their souls, their freedom. Your desire that it be that way will enslave you and make your life vacuous.

it. It's a life's work to see yourself for what you really are and even then you might be wrong.

He raised his face to the paling day. Are you there? he whispered. Will I see you at the last? Have you a neck by which to throttle you? Have you a heart? Damn you eternally have you a soul? Oh God, he whispered. Oh God.

You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget

Out of their anterior lives they had arrived at the same understanding as their fathers before them. That movement itself is a form of property.

Suppose you was someplace that you didnt know where it was. The real thing you wouldnt know was where someplace else was. Or how far it was. It wouldnt change nothin about where you was at.

while one would like to say that God will punish those who do such things and that people often speak in just this way it was his experience that God could not be spoken for and that men with wicked histories often enjoyed lives of comfort and that they died in peace and were buried with honor.

He mistrusted all of that. He said the right dreams for a man in peril were dreams of peril and all else was the call of languor and of death.

All reality is loss and all loss is eternal. There is no other kind. And that reality into which we inquire must first contain ourselves. And what are we? Ten percent biology and ninety percent nightrumor.

The Apache wrenched his pony's head around and when Glanton spun to look at his men he found them frozen in deadlock with the savages, they and their arms wired into a construction taut and fragile as those puzzles wherein the placement of each piece is predicated upon every other and they in turn so that none can move for bringing down the structure entire.

thunder. You could feel it under your feet. A sound without cognate and so without description. Something imponderable shifting out there in the dark. The earth itself contracting with the cold. It did not come again.

Eres capaz de hacerlo? ¿Cuando llegue el momento? Cuando llegue el momento no habrá momento que valga.

Yo creo que la verdad siempre es simple. Y lo es por fuerza. Tiene que ser lo bastante simple para que la entienda un niño.

If there was a heaven, was it not founded upon the writhing bodies of the damned?