What do you say to em?Say to them?Yeah. Say.Hell, say anything. It doesnt matter, they dont listen. Well you gotta say somethin. What do you say?Try the direct approach.What's that?Well, like this fri...
What do you say to a man that by his own admission has no soul? Why would you say anything?
Well, I think the questioner wants the truth. The doubter wants to be told there aint no such thing.
We could of brought weeners, she said. Yeah. Marshmallers. You wouldnt think a car would burn like that.
War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.
Un hombre es así como quien está soñando un sueño de aflicción y despierta a una pena aún mayor. Todo lo que ama se ha convertido en una tortura. Alguien ha estirado la pinza del eje del universo. Tod...
This country will kill you in a heartbeat and still people love it.
There is a moon shaped rictus in the streetlamp's globe where a stone has gone and from this aperture there drifts down through the constant helix of aspiring insects a faint and steady rain of the sa...
The truth is that the forms I see have been slowly emptied out. They no longer have any content. They are shapes only. A train, a wall, a world. Or a man. A thing dangling in senseless articulation in...
The nights were blinding cold and casket black and the long reach of the morning had a terrible silence to it.
The men poured gasoline on them and burned them alive, having no remedy for evil but only for the image of it as they conceived it to be.
The incinerate corpses shrunk to the size of a child and propped on the bare springs of the seats. Ten thousand dreams ensepulchred within their crozzled hearts.
The hundred nights they'd sat up arguing the pros and cons of self destruction with the earnestness of philosophers chained to a madhouse wall
The extinction of all reality is a concept no resignation can encompass. Until annihilation comes. And all grand ideas are seen for what they are.
The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
The Apache wrenched his pony's head around and when Glanton spun to look at his men he found them frozen in deadlock with the savages, they and their arms wired into a construction taut and fragile as...
That night he dreamt of horses in a field on a high plain where the spring rains had brought up the grass and the wildflowers out of the ground and the flowers ran all blue and yellow far as the eye c...
Such a man is like a dreamer who wakes from a dream of grief to a greater sorrow yet. All that he loves is now become a torment to him. The pin has been pulled from the axis of the universe. Whatever...
Spectre horsemen, pale with dust, anonymous in the crenellated heat. Above all else they appeared wholly at venture, primal, provisional, devoid of order. Like beings provoked out of the absolute rock...
So be sparing. What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not.