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He sat a long time and he thought about his life and how little of it he could ever have foreseen and he wondered for all his will and all his intent how much of it was his doing.

-Cormac McCarthy

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He Sat A Long Time And He

Cormac McCarthy

He sat a long time and he thought about his life and how little of it he could ever have foreseen and he wondered for all his will and all his intent how much of it was his doing.

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Long Littles Sat

More From Cormac McCarthy

We all know of course, that we should never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever fiddle around in any way with electrical equipment. never.

There once was a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought of a number of things. he had a sister, who was a child too, and his constant companion. these two used to wonder all day long. they wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and blueness of the sky; they wondered at the depth of the bright water; they wondered at the goodness and the power of god who made the lovely world.

What is the quality of your intent? certain people have a way of saying things that shake us at the core. even when the words do not seem harsh or offensive, the impact is shattering. what we could be experiencing is the intent behind the words. when we intend to do good, we do. when we intend to do harm, it happens. what each of us must come to realize is that our intent always comes through.

The writer's intention hasn't anything to do with what he achieves. the intent to earn money or the intent to be famous or the intent to be great doesn't matter in the end. just what comes out.

When i was in therapy about two years ago, one day i noticed that i hadn't had any children. and i like children at a distance. i wondered if i'd like them up close. i wondered why i didn't have any. i wondered if it was a mistake, or if i'd done it on purpose, or what. and i noticed my therapist didn't have any children either. he had pictures of his cats on the wall. framed.

He felt her heart beating against his chest. the moment began to transmute, and he wondered if there was something he should do. he wondered if he should kiss her. he wondered if he wanted to kiss her, and he realized that he truly didn't know.

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I thought the divorce statistics would never apply to me. i was beyond heartbroken when they did. but i got up and got on with it. i also kept my belief in marriage.

We are too ready to imagine that we are religious, because we know something of religion. we appropriate to ourselves the pious sentiments we read, and we talk as if the thoughts of other men's heads were really the feelings of our own hearts. but piety has not its seat in the memory, but in the affections, for which however the memory is an excellent purveyor, though a bad substitute.

There's a space at the bottom of an exhale, a little hitch between taking in and letting out that's a perfect zero you can go into. there's a rest point between the heart muscle's close and open - an instant of keenest living when you're momentarily dead. you can rest there.

If you think of a relationship as a living entity, i guess it's one thing if the missing two percent is, like, a fingernail. but when it's the heart, that's a whole different ball of wax.

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