What would you do if I died? If you died I would want to die too. So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you. Okay. Cormac McCarthy More Quotes by Cormac McCarthy More Quotes From Cormac McCarthy Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that. You forget some things, dont you? Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget. Cormac McCarthy want forever thinking He said that men believe the blood of the slain to be of no consequence but that the wolf knows better. He said that the wolf is a being of great order and that it knows what men do not: that there is no order in this world save that which death has put there. Cormac McCarthy men believe blood No one can tell you what your life is goin to be, can they? No. It's never like what you expected. Quijada nodded. If people knew the story of their lives how many would then elect to live them? Cormac McCarthy life-is stories people And the dreams so rich in color. How else would death call you? Waking in the cold dawn it all turned to ash instantly. Like certain ancient frescoes entombed for centuries suddenly exposed to the day. Cormac McCarthy color dawn dream In his dream she was sick and he cared for her. The dream bore the look of sacrifice but he thought differently. He did not take care of her and she died alone somewhere in the dark and there is no other dream nor other waking world and there is no other tale to tell. Cormac McCarthy sacrifice dark dream They lay listening. Can you do it? When the time comes? When the time comes there will be no time. Now is the time. Curse God and die. What if it doesn't fire? It has to fire. What if it doesn't fire? Could you crush that beloved skull with a rock? Is there such a being within you of which you know nothing? Can there be? Hold him in your arms. Just so. The soul is quick. Pull him toward you. Kiss him. Quickly. Cormac McCarthy crush kissing fire There was a sharp crack from somewhere on the mountain. Then another. It's just a tree falling, he said. It's okay. The boy was looking at the dead roadside trees. It's okay, the man said. All the trees in the world are going to fall sooner or later. But not on us. Cormac McCarthy men boys fall I tried to put things in perspective but sometimes you're just too close to it. Cormac McCarthy closeness perspective sometimes A man seeks his own destiny and no other, said the judge. Wil or nill. Any man who could discover his own fate and elect therefore some opposite course could only come at last to that selfsame reckoning at the same appointed time, for each man's destiny is as large as the world he inhabits and contains within it all opposites as well. The desert upon which so many have been broken is vast and calls for largeness of heart but it is also ultimately empty. It is hard, it is barren. Its very nature is stone. Cormac McCarthy fate destiny heart It is community and respect, of course, but the dead have more claims on you than what you might want to admit or even what you might know about and them claims can be very strong indeed. Very strong indeed. Cormac McCarthy community strong want Not all dying words are true and this blessing is no less real for being shorn of its ground. Cormac McCarthy dying real blessing Yet it is the narrative that is the life of the dream while the events themselves are often interchangeable. The events of the waking world on the other hand are forced upon us and the narrative is the unguessed axis along which they must be strung. Cormac McCarthy axes dream hands Books lie, he said. God dont lie. No, said the judge. He does not. And these are his words. He held up a chunk of rock. He speaks in stones and trees, the bones of things. The squatters in their rags nodded among themselves and were soon reckoning him correct, this man of learning, in all his speculations, and this the judge encouraged until they were right proselytes of the new order whereupon he laughed at them for fools. Cormac McCarthy men book lying If only my heart were stone. Cormac McCarthy my-heart stones heart I don't know why I started writing. I don't know why anybody does it. Maybe they're bored, or failures at something else. Cormac McCarthy bored doe writing He believed in God even if he was doubtful of men's claims to know God's mind. But that a God unable to forgive was no God at all. Cormac McCarthy forgiving mind men What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not. Cormac McCarthy known remember reality People don't pay attention. And then one day there's an accounting. And after that, nothing is the same. Cormac McCarthy one-day attention people 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. It is supposed to be true that those who do not know history are condemned to repeat it. I don't believe knowing can save us. What is constant in history is greed and foolishness and a love of blood and this is a thing that even God--who knows all that can be known--seems powerless to change. Cormac McCarthy knowing believe blood People complain about the bad things that happen to em that they don't deserve but they seldom mention the good. About what they done to deserve them things. Cormac McCarthy ems complaining people
