Cormac McCarthy
Cormac McCarthy
Cormac McCarthyis an American novelist, playwright, and screenwriter. He has written ten novels, spanning the Southern Gothic, western, and post-apocalyptic genres. He won the Pulitzer Prize and the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Fiction for The Road. His 2005 novel No Country for Old Men was adapted as a 2007 film of the same name, which won four Academy Awards, including Best Picture. For All the Pretty Horses, he won both the U.S. National Book Award and National Book...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth20 July 1933
CityProvidence, RI
CountryUnited States of America
The nights were blinding cold and casket black and the long reach of the morning had a terrible silence to it.
If a man's at odds to know his own mind it's because he hasn't got aught but his mind to know it with.
But there are no absolutes in human misery and things can always get worse
What he loved in horses was what he loved in men, the blood and the heat of the blood that ran them. All his reverence and all his fondness and all the leanings of his life were for the ardenhearted and they would always be so and never be otherwise. (All the Pretty Horses)
For things at a common destination there is a common path. Not always easy to see. But there.
Only that man who has offered up himself entire to the blood of war, who has been to the floor of the pit and seen the horror in the round and learned at last that it speaks to his inmost heart, only that man can dance. - The judge
When the shooting starts would you rather be armed or legal?
It takes very little to govern good people. Very little. And bad people cant be governed at all. Or if they could I never heard of it.
Well, I guess in all honesty I would have to say that I never knew nor did I ever hear of anybody that money didnt change.
He may be dead; or he may be teaching English.
Do you have any notion of how goddamned crazy you are?
The small wad of burning paper drew down to a wisp of flame and then died out leaving a faint pattern for just a moment in the incandescence like the shape of a flower, a molten rose. Then all was dark again.
He thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins. As in a party game. Say the words and pass it on. So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.
Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.