To make the world. To make it again and again. To make it in the very maelstrom of its undoing.
They have a long life, dreams. I have dreams now which I had as a young girl. They have an odd durability for something not quite real.Do you think they mean anything?She looked surprised. Oh yes, she...
There is no God and we are his prophets.
Lying under such a myriad of stars. The sea’s black horizon. He rose and walked out and stood barefoot in the sand and watched the pale surf appear all down the shore and roll and crash and darken aga...
John Grady looked at the table. The paper cat stepped thin and slant among the shapes of cats thereon. He looked up again. Yessir, he said. Just me and him.
He had no faith in the power of men to act wisely in their own behalf. It was his view rather that every act soon eluded the grasp of its propagator to be swept away in a clamorous tide of unforeseen...
Because the question for me was always whether that shape we see in our lives was there from the beginning or whether these random events are only called a pattern after the fact. Because otherwise we...
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...
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
White pussy is nothin but trouble.
There is no forgiveness. For women. A man may lose his honor and regain it again. But a woman cannot. She cannot.
She aint worth it. None of em are. He didnt answer for a while. Then he said: Yes they are.
Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.
In their images they had thought to find some small immortality but oblivion cannot be appeased.
The freedom of birds is an insult to me.
It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. ... War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awa...
My perfect day is sitting in a room with some blank paper. That's heaven. That's gold and anything else is just a waste of time.
They passed, leaving a trail of foxfire shuffled up out of the wet leaves like stars plowed in a ship's wake.
The world soon to be largely populated by men who would eat your children in front of your eyes and the cities themselves held by cores of blackened looters who tunneled among the ruins and crawled fr...
The eye turned to the fire gave back no light and he closed it with his thumb and sat by her and put his hand upon her bloodied forehead and closed his own eyes that he could see her running in the mo...