Blood Meridian

They do not have to have a reason. But order is not set aside because of their indifference.

The judge smiled. Whether in my book or not, every man is tabernacled in every other and he in exchange and so on in an endless complexity of being and witness to the uttermost edge of the world.

I wonder if there’s other worlds like this, he said. Or if this is the only one.

The man who believes that the secrets of the world are forever hidden lives in mystery and fear. Superstition will drag him down. The rain will erode the deeds of his life. But that man who sets himself the task of singling out the thread of order from the tapestry will by the decision alone have taken charge of the world and it is only by such tak

Notions of chance and fate are the preoccupation of men engaged in rash undertakings.

About that fire were men whose eyes gave back the light like coals socketed hot in their skulls and men whose eyes did not, but the black man’s eyes stood as corridors for the ferrying through of naked and unrectified night from what of it lay behind to what was yet to come.

The wrath of God lies sleeping. It was hid a million years before men were and only men have power to wake it. Hell aint half full. Hear me. Ye carry war of a madman’s making onto a foreign land. Ye’ll wake more than the dogs.

When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.

He was treated with a certain deference as one who had got onto terms with life beyond what his years could account for.