Quotes About Redemption

See him. You could say that he's sustained by his fellow men, like you. Has peopled the shore with them calling to him. A race that gives suck to the maimed & the crazed, that wants their wrong blood in its history & will have it. But they want this man's life. He has heard them in the night seeking him with lanterns & cries of execration. How then is he borne up? Or rather, why will not these waters take him?

Vive in silenzio il Dio che ha purgato questa terra con sale e cenere.

You wear out, Ed Tom. All the time you spend tryin to get back what's been took from you there's more goin out the door. After a while you just try and get a tourniquet on it.

He looked at her. After a while he said: It's not about knowin where you are. It's about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about startin over. Or anybody's. You don't start over. That's what it's about. Ever step you take is forever. You can't make it go away. None of it. You understand what I'm sayin?

If there was a heaven, was it nor founded upon the writhing bodies of the damned?

Forty minutes later he saw her and stopped and sat the horse and watched. She was riding along a red dirt ridge to the south sitting with her hands crossed on the pommel, looking toward the last of the sun, the horse slogging slowly through the loose sandy dirt, the red stain of it following them in the still air. That's my heart yonder, he told the horse. It always was.

You never know when you'll be in need of them you've despised

All the time you spend tryin to get back what's been took from you there's more goin out the door.

Torbert nodded. You and the sheriff goin to come down and get me off of death row? If we cant get you out we'll get in there with you. You all dont be makin light of the dead thataway, Bell said. Wendell nodded. Yessir, he said. You're right. I might be one myself some day.

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

You believe that the loss of those you loved has absolved you of all else.

After a while he said: It's not about knowin where you are. It's about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about startin over. Or anybody's. You dont start over. That's what it's about. Ever step you take is forever. You cant make it go away. None of it. You understand what I'm saying?

Nunca sabes cuándo necesitarás a los que has despreciado.

Then he waded out into the river like some wholly wretched baptismal candidate.

Ah Priest, said the judge. What could I ask of you that you've not already given?

You never know when you'll be in need of them you've despised, said Blevins.

He took of his hat and placed it on the tarmac before him and he bowed his head and held his face in his hands and wept. He sat there for a long time and after a while the east did gray and after a while the right and godmade sun did rise, once again, for all and without distinction.

Mm-hmm. Sorry. Don't need sorry. Not in this house. Sorry laid the hearth here. Sorry ways and sorry people and heavensent grief and heartache to make you pine for your death.

Cormac McCarthy

One day God felt he ought to give his workshop a spring-clean…. It was amazing what ragged bits and pieces came out from under his workbench as he swept. Beginnings of creatures, bits that looked useful but had seemed wrong, ideas that he'd mislaid and forgotten…. There was even a tiny lump of sun. He scratched his head. What could be done with all this rubbish? Ted Hughes, "Leftovers," from The Dreamfighter

Die Augen hielten ihn fest, rote Augen in all dem Schwarz wild und dumpf zugleich, verloren in sich selbst ohne Gestern oder Morgen, ohne Licht und Wärme, gefangen in der eigenen Kälte frierender Bosheit.

Sollte er Staubfinger vielleicht doch noch etwas schlechter machen? Nein, er hatte ihn schon umgebracht, heute würde er ihm einen Gefallen tun. Heute würde er seine Frau dazu bringen, ihm ein für alle Mal zu verzeihen, dass er zehn Jahre fort gewesen war. Manchmal kann ich doch wahrlich ein netter Mensch sein!, dachte Fenoglio.

The truth is that abandoned dog following you over sea and land, baying from barren clifftops, never tiring and never quitting, forever pining after you—and the day will come when that dog is on your porch, scratching insistently at your door, forcing you to claim it once again.

God can and will break the labels that have held you hostage.