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The man smiled at him a sly smile. as if they knew a secret between them, these two. something of age and youth and their claims and the justice of those claims. and of their claims upon them. the world past, the world to come. their common transciencies. above all a knowing deep in the bone that beauty and loss are one.
-Cormac McCarthy
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The Man Smiled At Him A Sly

Cormac McCarthy
The man smiled at him a sly smile. as if they knew a secret between them, these two. something of age and youth and their claims and the justice of those claims. and of their claims upon them. the world past, the world to come. their common transciencies. above all a knowing deep in the bone that beauty and loss are one.
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Loss Past Men

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Crabbed age and youth cannot live together; youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care; youth like summer morn, age like winter weather; youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. youth is full sport, age's breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame; youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; youth is wild, age is tame. age, i do abhor thee; youth, i do adore thee.
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What a sight there is in that "smile!" it changes like a chameleon. there is a vacant smile, a cold smile, a smile of hate, a satiric smile, an affected smile; but, above all, a smile of love.
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We have a common enemy. we have this in common: we have a common oppressor, a common exploiter, and a common discriminator. but once we all realize that we have this common enemy, then we unite on the basis of what we have in common. and what we have foremost in common is that enemy - the white man. he's an enemy to all of us. i know some of you all think that some of them aren't enemies. time will tell.
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She smiled. she knew she was dying. but it did not matter any longer. she had known something which no human words could ever tell and she knew it now. she had been awaiting it and she felt it, as if it had been, as if she had lived it. life had been, if only because she had known it could be, and she felt it now as a hymn without sound, deep under the little whole that dripped red drops into the snow, deeper than that from which the red drops came. a moment or an eternity- did it matter? life, undefeated, existed and could exist. she smiled, her last smile, to so much that had been possible.
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Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame; youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; youth is wild, and age is tame.
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Whenever the white man treats the indian as they treat each other then we shall have no more wars. we shall be all alike - brothers of one father and mother, with one sky above us and one country around us and one government for all. then the great spirit chief who rules above will smile upon this land and send rain to wash out the bloody spots made by brothers' hands upon the face of the earth. for this time the indian race is waiting and praying. i hope no more groans of wounded men and women will ever go to the ear of the great spirit chief above, and that all people may be one people.
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