Cormac McCarthy Quotes - Page 6

• Rage is really only for the good days. The truth is there's little of that left. the truth is that the forms I see have been slowly emptied out. They no longer have any content. They are shapes only. A train, a wall, a world. Or a man. A thing dangling in senseless articulation in a howling void. No meaning to its life. Its words. Why would I seek the company of such a thing? Why?

  Cormac McCarthy

  Wall, Good Day, Men

  Cormac McCarthy (2011). “The Sunset Limited: A Novel in Dramatic Form”, p.51, Pan Macmillan

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• How surely are the dead beyond death. Death is what the living carry with them. A state of dread, like some uncanny foretaste of a bitter memory. But the dead do not remember and nothingness is not a curse. Far from it.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Death, Memories, Bitter

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “Suttree”, p.184, Pan Macmillan

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• 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.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Thinking, People, Unhappy

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “No Country for Old Men”, p.174, Pan Macmillan

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• From daydreams on the road there was no waking. He plodded on. He could remember everything of her save her scent. Seated in a theatre with her beside him leaning forward listening to the music. Gold scrollwork and sconces and the tall columnar folds of the drapes at either side of the stage. She held his hand in her lap and he could feel the tops of her stockings through the thin stuff of her summer dress. Freeze this frame. Now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Summer, Dark, Remembers Everything

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). “The Road”, p.16, Vintage

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• Nothin wounded goes uphill, he said. It just dont happen.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Said, Wounded, Happens

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “No Country for Old Men”, p.12, Pan Macmillan

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• Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.

  Cormac McCarthy

  War, Men, Strange

  Cormac McCarthy (2015). “Blood Meridian: Picador Classic”, p.264, Pan Macmillan

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• 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.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Doors, Trying, Get Back

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). "No es país para viejos", p.267, Vintage

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• The wind sounded of Mother Earth's forsaken and abandoned cries.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Mother, Wind, Earth

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• It's not about knowing who 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. Every step you take is forever. You can't make it go away. None of it.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Knowing Who You Are, Starting Over, Forever

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). "No es país para viejos", p.227, Vintage

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• When the shooting starts would you rather be armed or legal?

  Cormac McCarthy

  Disparos

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• They trekked out along the crescent sweep of beach, keeping to the firmer sand below the tidewrack. They stood, their clothes flapping softly. Glass floats covered with a gray crust. The bones of seabirds. At the tideline a woven mat of weeds and the ribs of fishes in their millions stretching along the shore as far as the eye could see like an isocline of death. One vast salt sepulchre. Senseless. Senseless.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Weed, Beach, Eye

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). “The Road”, p.187, Vintage

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• Even if what you're working on doesn't go anywhere, it will help you with the next thing you're doing. Make yourself available for something to happen. Give it a shot.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Work, Giving, Next

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• The road has its own reasons and no two travelers will have the same understanding of those reasons. If indeed they come to an understanding of them at all.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Two, Understanding, Reason

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “The Crossing: Book 2 of The Border Trilogy”, p.230, Vintage

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• The night is quiet. Like a camp before battle. The city beset by a thing unknown and will it come from forest or sea? The murengers have walled the pale, the gates are shut, but lo the thing's inside and can you guess his shape? Where he's kept or what's the counter of his face? Is he a weaver, bloody shuttle shot through a time warp, a carder of souls from the world's nap? Or a hunter with hounds or do bone horses draw his dead cart through the streets and does he call his trade to each? Dear friend he is not to be dwelt upon for it is by just such wise that he's invited in

  Cormac McCarthy

  Wise, Horse, Night

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “Suttree”, p.4, Pan Macmillan

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• Finally he said that if men drink the blood of God yet they do not understand the seriousness of what they do. He said that men wish to be serious but they do not understand how to be so. Between their acts and their ceremonies lies the world and in this world the storms blow and the trees twist in the wind and all the animals that God has made go to and fro yet this world men do not see. They see the acts of their own hands or they see that which they name and call out to one another but the world between is invisible to them

  Cormac McCarthy

  Lying, Men, Animal

  Cormac McCarthy (2013). “The Border Trilogy”, p.331, Pan Macmillan

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• Listen to me, he said, when your dreams are of some world that never was or some world that never will be, and you're happy again, then you'll have given up. Do you understand? And you can't give up, I won't let you.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Dream, Giving Up, World

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• And perhaps beyond those shrouded swells another man did walk with another child on the dead gray sands. Slept but a sea apart on another beach among the bitter ashes of the world or stood in their rags lost to the same indifferent sun.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Beach, Children, Men

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “The Road”, p.234, Pan Macmillan

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• ¿En qué crees? Creo que los últimos y los primeros sufren por igual. Pari passu. ¿Por igual? No es sólo en la oscuridad de la muerte que todas las almas son una sola alma. ¿De qué te arrepentirías? De nada. ¿De nada? De una cosa. Hablé con amargura de mi vida y dije que tomaría mi parte contra la calumnia del olvido y contra su monstruosa falta de rostro y que levantaría una piedra en el mismo vacío donde todos leyeran mi nombre. De esa vanidad me retracto todo.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Believe, Dark, Vanity

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• What could a child know of the darkness of God's plan? Or how flesh is so frail it is hardly more than a dream

  Cormac McCarthy

  Dream, Children, Darkness

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “Suttree”, p.185, Pan Macmillan

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• I felt early on I wasn't going to be a respectable citizen.

  Cormac McCarthy

  House, Citizens, Respectable

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• Men believe death's elections to be a thing inscrutable yet every act invites the act which follows and to the extent that men put one foot before the other they are accomplices in their own deaths as in all such facts of destiny.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Death, Believe, Destiny

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “The Crossing: Book 2 of The Border Trilogy”, p.379, Vintage

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• I look for the words, Professor. I look for the words because I believe that the words is the way to your heart.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Believe, Heart, Looks

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• Only now is the child finally divested of all that he has been. His origins are become remote as is his destiny and not again in all the world's turning will there be terrains so wild and barbarous to try whether the stuff of creation may be shaped to man's will or whether his own heart is not another kind of clay.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Children, Heart, Destiny

  Cormac McCarthy (2015). “Blood Meridian: Picador Classic”, p.5, Pan Macmillan

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• When one has nothing left make ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Air, Breathe, Ceremony

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• Tumbado bajo una miríada de estrellas. El horizonte negro del mar. Se levantó, salió, se quedó descalzo en la arena y observó cómo el pálido oleaje aparecía por toda la orilla, rodaba, chocaba y volvía a oscurecerse. Cuando volvió al fuego se arrodilló y le alisó el pelo mientras dormía y dijo que si él fuera Dios habría hecho el mundo así y nada diferente.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Stars, Lying, Fire

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). “The Road”, p.185, Vintage

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