Cormac McCarthy Quotes About Eyes

Quotes about: Eyes

• 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 sun in their running. 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.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Crush, Running, Dog

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “The Road”, p.138, Pan Macmillan

• He'd half meant to speak but those eyes had altered the world forever in the space of a heartbeat.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Eye, Space, Forever

  Cormac McCarthy (2012). “All the Pretty Horses”, p.113, Pan Macmillan

• The soft black talc blew through the streets like squid ink uncoiling along a sea floor and the cold crept down and the dark came early and the scavengers passing down the steep canyons with their torches trod silky holes in the drifted ash that closed behind them silently as eyes.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Eye, Dark, Sea

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “The Road”, p.83, Pan Macmillan

• Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Eye, Sorrow, World

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). “The Road”, p.110, Vintage

• They trekked out along the crescent sweep of beach, keeping to the firmer sand below the tidewrack. They stood, their clothes flapping softly. Glass floats covered with a gray crust. The bones of seabirds. At the tideline a woven mat of weeds and the ribs of fishes in their millions stretching along the shore as far as the eye could see like an isocline of death. One vast salt sepulchre. Senseless. Senseless.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Weed, Beach, Eye

  Cormac McCarthy (2007). “The Road”, p.187, Vintage

• She looked up at him and her face was pale and austere in the uplight and her eyes lost in their darkly shadowed hollows save only for the glint of them and he could see her throat move in the light and he saw in her face and in her figure something he'd not seen before and the name of that thing was sorrow.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Moving, Eye, Light

  Cormac McCarthy (2013). “The Border Trilogy”, p.136, Pan Macmillan

• In the neuter austerity of that terrain all phenomena were bequeathed a strange equality and no one thing nor spider nor stone nor blade of grass could put forth claim to precedence. The very clarity of these articles belied their familiarity, for the eye predicates the whole on some feature or part and here was nothing more luminous than another and nothing more enshadowed and in the optical democracy of such landscapes all preference is made whimsical and a man and a rock become endowed with unguessed kinship.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Eye, Men, Rocks

  Cormac McCarthy (2010). “Blood Meridian: Or the Evening Redness in the West”, p.258, Vintage

• By early evening all the sky to the north had darkened and the spare terrain they trod had turned a neuter gray as far as the eye could see. They grouped in the road at the top of a rise and looked back. The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place n the iron dark of the world.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Eye, Dark, Wind

  Cormac McCarthy (2013). “The Border Trilogy: Picador Classic”, p.66, Pan Macmillan

• Looking over the country with those sunken eyes as if the world out there had been altered or made suspect by what he'd seen of it elsewhere. As if he might never see it right again. Or worse did see it right at last. See it as it had always been, would forever be.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Country, Eye, Forever

  Cormac McCarthy (2012). “All the Pretty Horses”, p.24, Pan Macmillan

• Where hunters and woodcutters once slept in their boots by the dying light of their thousand fires and went on, old teutonic forebears with eyes incandesced by the visionary light of a massive rapacity, wave on wave of the violent and the insane, their brains stoked with spoorless analogues of all that was, lean aryans with their abrogate Semitic chapbook reenacting the dramas and parable therein.

  Cormac McCarthy

  Drama, Eye, Fire

  "Suttree". Book by Cormac McCarthy (p. 4), May 1979.

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