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Quote by Cormac McCarthy

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Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West

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Author

Cormac McCarthy
Cormac McCarthy

American novelist known for his profound literary style and rich imagination. His notable works include 'The Border Trilogy' and 'No Country for Old Men'. more

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“And I still say it was just a coincidence;' he muttered pugnaciously. 'You say it too! Look at me and say it! It was just a coincidence. That happened to be the nearest place on the dial where they both met exactly, those two hands. My blows dented them. They got stuck there just as the works died, that was all. Stay sane whatever you do. Say it over and over. It was just a coincidence!' Outside the tall French windows, in the velvety night-sky, the stars in all their glory twinkled derisively in at them. ("Speak To Me Of Death")”

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Book:The Fantastic Stories of Cornell Woolrich
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“And he knew he would not be travelling home. If he had to wear a donkey jacket and wait for fifty years, then he would wait. At last there was a place in the world where he had reason to be, a place that had meaning. For days, without realising it, he had sensed this meaning everywhere, in the streets, houses, ruins and temples of Rome. It could not be said of the feeling that it was 'filled with pleasurable expectation'. Rome and its millennia were not by nature associated with happiness, and what Mihály anticipated from the future was not what is usually conjured up by 'pleasurable expectation'. He was awaiting his fate, the logical, appropriately Roman, ending.”

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Book:Journey by Moonlight
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“Єсть на світі доля, А хто її знає? Єсть на світі воля, А хто її має? Єсть люде на світі — Сріблом-злотом сяють, Здається, панують, А долі не знають,— Ні долі, ні волі! З нудьгою та з горем Жупан надівають, А плакати — сором. Возьміть срібло-злото Та будьте багаті, А я візьму сльози — Лихо виливати; Затоплю недолю Дрібними сльозами, Затопчу неволю Босими ногами! Тоді я веселий, Тоді я багатий, Як буде серденько По волі гуляти!”

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Book:Кобзар
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“I was coming up on a cross street when a man wearing a filthy suit stepped out from around the corner of the building ahead and directly into my path. Bent with age, he turned bleak red eyes to me and stared. Pressed with his chest to both hands he carried a paperback book as soiled and bereft as his suit. Are you one of the real ones or not? he demanded. And after a moment, when I failed to answer, he walked on, resuming his sotto voce conversation. A chill passed through me. Somehow, indefinably, I felt, felt with the kind of baffled, tacit understanding that we have in dreams , that I had just glimpsed one possible future self.”

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Book:Black Hornet
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