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Kris Blackburn

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Kris is Currently Reading

Kris Blackburn is currently reading

Foxglove Summer (Rivers of London, #5)

by Ben Aaronovitch (Goodreads Author)

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(page 205 of 377)
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22 hours, 1 min ago

“He thought that in the beauty of the world were hid a secret. He thought that the world’s heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world’s pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the blood of multitudes might ultimately be exacted for the vision of a single flower.”
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

tags: beauty, pain

292 likes

“It’s amazing how seedy scumbags (the press) can write shite, and demented retards (the public) suddenly go up in arms and then opportunistic slime (the politicians) jump right on the bandwagon. Such is British life. So now there is to be a ‘comprehensive review of the facility’.”
― Irvine Welsh, Skagboys

2 likes

“She looked up at him and her face was pale and austere in the uplight and her eyes lost in their darkly shadowed hollows save only for the glint of them and he could see her throat move in the light and he saw in her face and in her figure something he'd not seen before and the name of that thing was sorrow.”
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

tags: sorrow

68 likes

“In the spring or warmer weather when the snow thaws in the woods the tracks of winter reappear on slender pedestals and the snow reveals in palimpsest old buried wanderings, struggles, scenes of death. Tales of winter brought to light again like time turned back upon itself.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Child of God

23 likes

“They heard somewhere in that tenantless night a bell that tolled and ceased where no bell was and they rode out on the round dais of the earth which alone was dark and no light to it and which carried their figures and bore them up into the swarming stars so that they rode not under but among them and they rode at once jaunty and circumspect, like thieves newly loosed in that dark electric, like young thieves in a glowing orchard, loosely jacketed against the cold and ten thousand worlds for the choosing.”
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

96 likes

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