The opening of an early draft of Blood Meridian.
That evening he passed through a children’s cemetery set in a bench of a hillside and forlorn save by weeds.
– Suttree - Cormac McCarthy
The desert upon which so many have been broken is vast and calls for largeness of heart but it is also ultimately empty.
They were watching, out there past men’s knowing, where stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.
Hard weather, says the old man. So let it be. Wrap me in the weathers of the earth, I will be hard and hard. My face will wash rain like the stones.
A gray snowflake sifting down. He caught it in his hand and watched it expire there like the last host of christendom.
Thru butdoesitfloat.
He listened. Above the black ranks of trees the mid-summer sky arched cloudless and coldly starred.
