I was just thinking about my favorite paragraph from a book ever and I wanted to share it with you. This is so beautiful to me. #TheRoad #Bookstodom
‘The world shrinking down about a raw core of parsible entities. The names of things slowly following those things into oblivion. Colors. The names of birds. Things to eat. Finally the name of things one believed to be true. More fragile than he would have thought. How much was gone already? The sacred idiom shorn of its referents and so of its reality.’
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#BraveWords
THUNDERMOTHER Share New Video “The Road is Ours” (Live In Cologne); Live’n’Alive Album Available Digitally
#THUNDERMOTHER #ShareNewVideo #TheRoad #album #newrelease #single #video #BraveWords #metal #music
25 Modern Classics That’ll Actually Wreck You (In the Best Way)
25 modern classic books that belong on every reading list, from gut-punch literary fiction to genre-bending thrillers. Cormac McCarthy, Zadie Smith, Gillian Flynn, and more. These aren't dusty assignments, they're the books people are still talking about. Here's your no-BS guide to what's actually worth reading.
#Books #CormackMcCarthy #TheRoad #TheMan #TheBoy
Re-sharing this from "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy, it's so good.
"He was a long time going to sleep. After a while he turned and looked at the man. His face in the small light streaked with black from the rain like some old-world thespian. Can I ask you something? he said.
Yes. Of course.
Are we going to die?
Sometime. Not now.
And we're still going south.
Yes.
So we'll be warm.
Yes.
Okay.
Okay what?
Nothing. Just okay.
Go to sleep.
Okay.
I'm going to blow out the lamp. Is that okay?
Yes. That's okay.
And then later in the darkness: Can I ask you something?
Yes. Of course you can.
What would you do if I died?
If you died I would want to die too.
So you could be with me?
Yes. So I could be with you.
Okay.
He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.
Curt Johnson - Indie Genius
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