I guess you ought to be careful about cussin the dead. I would say at the least there probably ain't no luck in it.
Cormac McCarthyWhen the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.
Cormac McCarthyThe small wad of burning paper drew down to a wisp of flame and then died out leaving a faint pattern for just a moment in the incandescence like the shape of a flower, a molten rose. Then all was dark again.
Cormac McCarthyWhat deity in the realms of dementia, what rabid god decocted out of the smoking lobes of hydrophobia could have devised a keeping place for souls so poor as is this flesh. This mawky worm-bent tabernacle.
Cormac McCarthy