What did Cormac McCarthy mean by: They say death comes like a thief in the night, where is he? I’ll hug his neck. Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA Copy
What man is such a coward he would not rather fall once than remain forever tottering? Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Courage, Resilience, Stability, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
My daddy used to tell me not to chew on somethin that was eatin you. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Caution, Metaphor, Wisdom, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule? Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Consequences, Questioning, Rules, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
Anything that doesn’t take years of your life and drive you to suicide hardly seems worth doing. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Sacrifice, Time, Value, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
What you alter in the remembering has yet a reality, known or not. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Memory, Perception, Reality, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
The voice of the Almighty speaks most profoundly in such things as lives in silence themselves. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Reflection, Silence, Spirituality, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
I tried to put things in perspective but sometimes you’re just too close to it. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Clarity, Distance, Perspective, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
Ive seen the meanness of humans till I dont know why God aint put out the sun and gone away. Author, December 25, 2023January 1, 2025, Cormac McCarthy, Cruelty, Despair, Faith, 0 Cormac McCarthy Novelist · USA
Since the day of my birth, my death began its walk. It is walking toward me, without hurrying. Read explanation Jean Cocteau Artist · France
I only fear the death of others. For me, true death is that of the people I love Jean Cocteau Artist · France
I’m not willing just to be tolerated. That wounds my love of love and of liberty. Jean Cocteau Artist · France
