Chris Andrews

“The sun was just down and to the west lay reefs of bloodred clouds up out of which rose little desert nighthawks like fugitives from some great fire at the earth's end.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West

“All progressions from a higher to a lower order are marked by ruins and mystery and a residue of nameless rage.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West

“What can I say, I'm a sucker for abandoned stuff, misplaced stuff, forgotten stuff, any old stuff which despite the light of progress and all that, still vanishes every day like shadows at noon, goings unheralded, passings unmourned, well, you get the drift.
As a counselor once told me -a counselor for Disaffected Yought, I might add: "You like that crap because it reminds you of you." Couldn't of said it better or put it more bluntly. Don't even disagree with it either.”
― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

“Love of love written by the broken hearted, love of life written by the dead.”
― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves