Each man is the bard of his own existence. This is how he is joined to the world.
By midmorning eight of the horses stood tied and the other eight were wilder than deer, scattering along the fence and bunching and running in a rising sea of dust as the day warmed, coming to reckon...
This was the perfect day of his childhood. This the day to shape the days upon.
This ferry was taken over by the Yumas and operated for them by a man named Callaghan, but within days it was burned and Callaghan's headless body floated anonymously downriver, a vulture standing bet...
They had no curiousity about him at all. As if they knew all that they needed to know. They stood and watched him pass and watched him vanish upon that landscape solely because he was passing. Solely...
There were in the camp a number of Mexican slaves and these ran forth calling out in spanish and were brained or shot and one of the Delawares emerged from the smoke with a naked infant dangling in ea...
One thing about me, when I’m wrong I’ll admit it. Well. That’s a good trait to have.
In a world darksome as this'n I believe a blind man ort to be better sighted than most.
In a pocket of his knapsack he'd found a last half packet of cocoa and he fixed it for the boy and then poured his own cup with hot water and sat blowing at the rim.You promised not to do that, the bo...
I have no enemies. I dont permit such a thing.
He slept little and he slept poorly.
De todos modos el compartir es la ley del camino, verdad?
Summer was full on and the nights hot. It was like lying in warm syrup there in the dark under the viaduct, in the steady whine of gnats and nightbugs
This is a dog. He is dead too. This
There is no forgiveness. For women. A man may lose his honor and regain it again. But a woman cannot. She cannot.
Life is a memory, and then it is nothing.
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I've been at some pains to tell you about myself because among other reasons I think we should know who our enemies are. I've known people to spend their lives nursing a hatred of phantoms and they we...
He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence. All history present in that visage, the child the father of the man.