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I am unmade from what I was meant to be. Jeff VanderMeer; Absolution

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Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again.

Cormac McCarthy; The Road

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This life of yours is not a picture of the world. It is the world itself and it is composed not of bone or dream or time but of worship. Nothing else can contain it. Nothing else be by it contained.

Cormac McCarthy; Cities of the Plain

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Yet there are no crossroads. Our decisions do not have some alternative. We may contemplate a choice but we pursue one path only.

Cormac McCarthy; Cities of the Plain

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He sat a long time and he thought about his life and how little of it he could ever have foreseen and he wondered for all his will and all his intent how much of it was his own doing.

Cormac McCarthy; Cities of the Plain

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The greater our hatred the more persistent the memory of them so that a truly terrible enemy becomes deathless. So that the man who has done you great injury or injustice makes himself a guest in your house forever.

Cormac McCarthy; Cities of the Plain

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There's some things you dont decide. Decidin had nothin to do with it.

Cormac McCarthy; Cities of the Plain

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There's a kind of man that when he cant have what he wants he wont take the next best thing but the worst he can find.

Cormac McCarthy; Cities of the Plain

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If people knew the story of their lives how many would then elect to live them?

Cormac McCarthy; The Crossing

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He seemed to himself a person with no prior life. As if he had died in some way years ago and was ever after some other being who had no history, who had no ponderable life to come.

Cormac McCarthy; The Crossing

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The corrido. The tale. And like all corridos it ultimately told one story only, for there is only one to tell.

Cormac McCarthy; The Crossing

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the beast who dreams of man and has so dreamt in running dreams a hundred thousand years and more. Dreams of that malignant lesser god come pale and naked and alien to slaughter all his clan and kin and route them from their house. A god insatiable whom no ceding could appease nor any measure of blood.

Cormac McCarthy; The Crossing

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“Population,” Mark Halliday

Isn’t it nice that everyone has a grocery list except the very poor you hear about occasionally we all have a grocery list on the refrigerator door; at any given time there are thirty million lists in America that say BREAD. Isn’t it nice not to be alone in this. Sometimes you visit someone’s house for the first time and you spot the list taped up on a kitchen cabinet and you think Yes, we’re all in this together. TOILET PAPER. No getting around it. Nice to think of us all unwrapping the new rolls at once, forty thousand of us at any given moment.

Orgasm, of course, being the most vivid example: imagine an electrified map wired to every American bed: those little lights popping on both sides of the Great Divide, popping to beat the band. But we never beat the band: within an hour or a day we’re horny again, or hungry, or burdened with waste. But isn’t it nice to be not noticeably responsible, acquitted eternally in the rituals of the tribe: it’s only human! It’s only human and that’s not much.

So, aren’t you glad we have such advanced farm machinery, futuristic fertilizers, half a billion chickens almost ready to die. Here come the loaves of bread for us thup, thup thup thup for all of us thup thup except maybe the very poor thup thup and man all the cattle we can fatten up man, there’s no stopping our steaks. And that’s why we can make babies galore, baby: let’s get on with it. Climb aboard. Let’s be affirmative here, let’s be pro-life for God’s sake how can life be wrong? People need people and the happiest people are surrounded with friendly flesh. If you have ten kids they’ll be so sweet – ten really sweet kids! Have twelve! What if there were 48 pro baseball teams, you could see a damn lot more games! And in this fashion we get away from tragedy. Because tragedy comes when someone gets too special. Whereas,

if forty thousand kitchen counters on any given Sunday night have notes on them that say I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE I’M GONE, DON’T TRY TO FIND ME you can feel how your note is no big thing in America, so, no horrible heartbreak, it’s more like a TV episode, you’ve seen this whole plot lots of times and everybody gets by – you feel better already – everybody gets by and it’s nice. It’s a people thing. You’ve got to admit it’s nice.

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My daddy always claimed a man made his own luck. But that's disputable, I reckon.

Cormac McCarthy; Outer Dark

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I've seen the meanness of humans till I don't know why God ain't put out the sun

Cormac McCarthy; Outer Dark

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Sorry. Don't need sorry. Not in this house. Sorry laid the hearth here. Sorry ways and sorry people and heavensent grief and heartache to make you pine for your death.

Cormac McCarthy; Outer Dark