Life is brief and to have to spend every day of it doing what somebody else wants you to do is not the way to live it. Cormac McCarthy More Quotes by Cormac McCarthy More Quotes From Cormac McCarthy Choose your enemies carefully 'cause they will define you Make them interesting 'cause in some ways they will mind you They're not there in the beginning but when your story ends Gonna last with you longer than your friend Cormac McCarthy mind enemy interesting Men have in their minds a picture of how the world will be. How they will be in that world. The world may be many different ways for them but there is one world that will never be and that is the world they dream of. Cormac McCarthy mind dream men When we're all gone at last then there'll be nobody here but death and his days will be numbered too. He'll be out in the road there with nothing to do and nobody to do it to. He'll say: where did everybody go? And that's how it will be. What's wrong with that? Cormac McCarthy lasts gone It was always himself that the coward abandoned first. After this all other betrayals came easily. Cormac McCarthy betrayal coward firsts What man is such a coward he would not rather fall once than remain forever tottering? Cormac McCarthy forever men fall By the time I was sixteen I had read many books and I had become a freethinker. Cormac McCarthy freethinker sixteen book He said that whether a man's life was writ in a book someplace or whether it took its form day by day was one and the same for it had but one reality and that was the living of it. Cormac McCarthy men book reality Whatever exists, he said. Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent. He looked about at the dark forest in which they were bivouacked. He nodded toward the specimens he'd collected. These anonymous creatures, he said, may seem little or nothing in the world. Yet the smallest crumb can devour us. Any smallest thing beneath yon rock out of men's knowing. Only nature can enslave man and only when the existence of each last entity is routed out and made to stand naked before him will he be properly suzerain of the earth. Cormac McCarthy rocks dark men You say you can't? Then don't do it. That's all. Cormac McCarthy War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence. War is god. Cormac McCarthy unity games war The judge placed his hands on the ground. He looked at his inquisitor. This is my claim, he said. And yet everywhere upon it are pockets of autonomous life. Autonomous. In order for it to be mine nothing must be permitted to occur upon it save by my dispensation. Cormac McCarthy judging order hands What joins men together ... is not the sharing of bread but the sharing of enemies. Cormac McCarthy together men enemy The things I believed in dont exist any more. It's foolish to pretend that they do. Western Civilization finally went up in smoke in the chimneys at Dachau but I was too infatuated to see it. I see it now. Cormac McCarthy dachau foolish civilization Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all. Cormac McCarthy long-time boys long Teaching writing is a hustle. Cormac McCarthy hustle teaching writing In history there are no control groups. There is no one to tell us what might have been. We weep over the might have been, but there is no might have been. There never was. Cormac McCarthy all-the-pretty-horses groups might Every man's death is standing in for every other. And since death comes to all there is no way to abate the fear of it except to love the man who stands for us. Cormac McCarthy standing men way Your god must once have stood at a dawn of infinite possibilities, and this is what he's made of it. You tell me that I want God's love? I don't. Perhaps I want forgiveness, but there's no-one to ask it of. And there's no going back, there's no setting things right, there's only the hope of nothingness. Cormac McCarthy infinite dawn want This is what the good guys do. They keep trying. They don't give up Cormac McCarthy dont-give-up giving-up guy The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the name of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality. Drawing down like something trying to preserve heat. In time to wink out forever. Cormac McCarthy drawing color reality
