Quotes About Isolation

They was some of em wound up just livin in the woods like animals. And that was a cold winter, too. People would see em crossin the road at night in the carlights. Whole families. Carryin blankets. Pots and pans. People tried to find em. Take em some flour and meal. Coffee. Maybe a little sidemeat. I think about those children. I do yet.

Alone in the empty shell of a house the squatter watched through the moteblown glass a rimshard of bonecolored moon come cradling up over the black balsams on the ridge, ink trees a facile hand sketched against the paler dark of winter heavens.

You give up the world line by line. Stoically. And then one day you realize that your courage is farcical. It doesnt mean anything. You've become an accomplice in your own annihilation and there is nothing you can do about it. Everything you do closes a door somewhere ahead of you. And finally there is only one door left.

Cormac McCarthy

He found Reese asleep in a wrecked car behind the cabins. Suttree shook him gently awake into a world he wanted no part of. The old man fought it.

He lay down in his blankets. It was growing dark, long late mid-summer twilight in the woods. He wanted to go down to the river to bathe but he felt too bad. He turned over and looked at the small plot of ground in the crook of his arm. My life is ghastly, he told the grass.

Cormac McCarthy

He watches, pale and unwashed. He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence.

Some time after midnight on the twenty-first of December it began to snow. By morning in the gray spectral light of a brief and obscure winter sun the fields lay deadwhite and touched with a phosphorous glow as if producing illumination of themselves, and the snow was still wisping down thickly, veiling the trees beyond the creek and the mountain itself, falling softly, and softly, faintly sounding in the immense white silence.

He walked out on the prairie and stood holding his hat like some supplicant to the darkness over them all and he stood there for a long time.

Stark gray world appeared again and again out of the night in the shrouded flare of the lightning.

When even the bones is gone in the desert the dreams is talk to you, you dont wake up forever.

Cormac McCarthy

What do you think? At the last minute little Bobby Shafto is going to wake from the dead and come and rescue you? Silver buckles on his shoes or whatever the fuck? He's out of the loop, Louise. Since he duffeled his head in his racing machine. She looked away.

and bottles and they left

Entonces despertó y se quedó contemplando las estrellas a través del zarzal de ramas de los árboles e intentó dilucidar qué sitio podía ser aquel donde se encontraba Boyd, pero Boyd estaba muerto y hecho una piltrafa envuelto en el petate aguas arriba entre los árboles, y Billy bajó la cara y se echó a llorar.

Cormac McCarthy

That's why love is so inseparable from any talk about truth and death, because we know that love is fundamentally a death of an old self that was isolated and the emergence of a new self now entangled with another self, the self that you fall in love with.

Perhaps she was more like him than he'd thought: Her home, too, had consisted of paper and printer's ink. She probably felt as lost as he did in the real world.

The Fairy looked at the broken glass around her feet. Her shattered cage. And the one who'd put her in it was far, far away. But, no, she had caged herself.

I was the Count of Monte Cristo, who would one day return from the terrible prison island to take revenge on all those who had sent him there. I was Napoléon, banished to die a lonely death on Saint Helena. I was Harry, locked up under the Dursleys' staircase.

Perhaps she was more like him than he'd thought: her home, too, had consisted of paper and printer's ink. She probably felt as lost as he did in the real world.

aber keine von ihnen war so recht bei der Sache und das Gefühl, das sich sonst sofort eingestellt hatte, wenn sie zusammen im Wohnwagen saßen, das Gefühl von Geborgenheit, von Freiheit und Freundschaft, wollte sich einfach nicht einstellen. Als hätte der Wohnwagen plötzlich Löcher und flüsterte ihnen all das über die Welt zu, was sie nicht wissen wollten.

Creo que ella se alimenta de letras. Toda su casa está abarrotada de libros. Ella los prefiere claramente a la compañía de las personas