Jerrod Langston

“And so he left things as they were. Without realizing it, he was beginning to defer his problems in the hope that death would resolve them,”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

“He was forty-two years old, and he could see nothing before him that he wished to enjoy and little behind him that he cared to remember.”
― John Williams, Stoner

“He thought of the cost exacted, year after year, by the soil; and it remained as it had been-a little more barren, perhaps, a little more frugal of increase. Nothing had changed. Their lives had been expended in cheerless labor, their wills broken, their intelligences numbed. Now they were in the earth to which they had given their lives; and slowly, year by year, the earth would take them. Slowly the damp and rot would infest the pine boxes which held their bodies, and slowly it would touch their flesh, and finally it would consume the last vestiges of their substances. And they would become a meaningless part of that stubborn earth to which they had long ago given themselves.”
― John Williams, Stoner

“In the end we all come to be cured of our sentiments. Those whom life does not cure death will.”
― cormac mccarthy, All the Pretty Horses