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.
Buddy when he come back from up in the panhandle told me one time it quit blowin up there and all the chickens fell over.
They camped that night on the foreplain at the foot of a talus slope and the murder that had been reckoned upon took place.
You know we talked about where people go when they die. I just believe you go someplace and I seen her layin there and I thought maybe she wouldn't go to heaven because, you know, I thought she wouldn...
¿Has pensado alguna vez en la muerte?Sí. A veces. ¿Y tú?Sí. A veces. ¿Crees que existe un cielo?Sí. ¿Tú no?No lo sé. Quizá sí. ¿Crees que puedes creer en el cielo si no crees en el infierno?Creo que p...
Like some scurrilous king stripped of his vestiture and driven together with his fool into the wilderness to die.
He was gibbering hysterically and when he saw the kid standing there looking down at him he held out to him his bloodied hands as if in accusation and then clapped them to his ears and cried out what...
You dont get your black ass away from this fire I’ll kill you graveyard dead. He looked to where Glanton sat. Glanton watched him. He put the pipe in his mouth and rose and took up the apishamore and...
Where in this pukehole can a man get a drink? he said
What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.
This place aint the same. It never will be. Maybe we've all got a little crazy. I guess if everbody went crazy together nobody would notice, what do you think?
Things separate from their stories have no meaning.
They stood among their horses in the squalid little alameda while the wind ransacked the trees and the birds nesting in the gray twilight cried out and clutched the limbs and the snow swirled and blew...
They rode in a narrow enfillade along a trail strewn with the dry round turds of goats and they rode with their faces averted from the rock wall and the bakeoven air which it rebated, the slant black...
They rode for days through the rain and they rode through rain and hail and rain again. In that gray storm light they crossed a flooded plain with the footed shapes of the horses reflected in the wate...
They filed out in descending order by altitudes, the father first, out through the sunlit doors in a sextet of calico isotropes and into the street, the elder smiling, along through the crowds and dow...
There’s little equity in the Lord’s gifts.
There ain’t no law in Mexico. It’s just a pack of rogues.
The sheriff shook his head. Dope, he said. Dope.They sell that shit to school kids.It's worse than that.How's that?School kids buy it.
The shape of the city stood in the grayness like a charcoal drawing sketched across the waste.