Cormac McCarthy Dead at 89: I'm sure he wouldn't want anyone to cry for him but I'm going to anyway

“You can find meanness in the least of creatures, but when God made man the devil was at his elbow. A creature that can do anything. Make a machine. And a machine to make the machine. And evil that can run itself a thousand years, no need to tend it.”

It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask

men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for

him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and

will be. That way and not some other way.

Mr. Suttree it is our understanding that at curfew rightly decreed by law and in that hour wherein night draws to its proper close and the new day commences and contrary to conduct befitting a person of your station you betook yourself to various low places within the shire of McAnally and there did squander several ensuing years in the company of thieves, derelicts, miscreants, pariahs, pols, spalpeens, curmudgeons, clotpolls, murderers, gamblers, bawds, whores, trulls, brigands, topers, tosspots, sots and archsots, lobpeepees, smellsmocks, runagates, rakes, and other assorted and felonious debauchees.

I was drunk, cried Suttree.