For me the world has always been more of a puppet show. But when one looks behind the curtain and traces the strings upward he finds they terminate in the hands of yet other puppets, themselves with their own strings which trace upward in turn, and so on. In my own life I saw these strings whose origins were endless enact the deaths of great men in violence and madness. Enact the ruin of a nation.
Cormac McCarthyBut I didn't know what to say to him. What do you say to a man that by his own admission has no soul? Why would you say anything?
Cormac McCarthyThe carrion birds sat about the topmost corners of the houses with their wings outstretched in attitudes of exhortation like dark little bishops.
Cormac McCarthySuttree stood among the screaming leaves and called the lightning down. It cracked and boomed about and he pointed out the darkened heart within him and cried for light. If there be any art in the weathers of this earth. Or char these bones to coal. If you can, if you can. A blackened rag in the rain.
Cormac McCarthy