There is no God and we are his prophets.
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.
It just sounds like superstition to me.And what is that?Superstition?Yes.Well. I guess it's when you believe in things that dont exist.Such as tomorrow? Or yesterday?Such as the dreams of somebody you...
Harrogate saw them going along Blount Avenue Sunday morning. They wore outfits all cut from the same bolt of cloth and in the church pew standing six across they looked like a strip of gaudy wallpaper...
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...
She aint worth it. None of em are. He didnt answer for a while. Then he said: Yes they are.
He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the...
Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.
The soul might be silent but the servant of the soul has always got a voice and it has got one for a reason.
The tinker in his burial tree was a wonder to the birds. The vultures that came by day to nose with their hooked beaks among his buttons and pockets like outrageous pets soon left him naked of his rag...
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...
They passed, leaving a trail of foxfire shuffled up out of the wet leaves like stars plowed in a ship's wake.
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...
„Pamiętaj, że to, co wpuszczasz do głowy, pozostaje w niej na zawsze.
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.
The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void.
Pick a man, any man. That man there. See him. That man hatless. You know his opinion of the world. You can read it in his face, in his stance. Yet his complaint that a man’s life is no bargain masks t...
No todo el mundo necesita tener una razón para ir a alguna parte.
Now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.
In their images they had thought to find some small immortality but oblivion cannot be appeased.
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