Chris Larlee

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See all 4 books that Chris is reading…
Book cover for The Familiar
“What do you really think of this place?” Luzia gave a small snort. “What does a beetle think of the boot that crushes it? It is a very excellent boot with a most impressive sole and made of the finest leather.”
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Anna Kavan
“As her fate, she accepted the world of ice, shining, shimmering, dead; she resigned herself to the triumph of glaciers and the death of the world.”
Anna Kavan, Ice

Annie Dillard
“There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind. On a sunny day, the sun's energy on a square acre of land or pond can equal 4500 horsepower. These "horses" heave in every direction, like slaves building pyramids, and fashion, from the bottom up, a new and sturdy world.”
Annie Dillard

“In a single stroke, the Linnaean classification system wiped monsters off the face of the map. There might still be unknown beasts and fearsome creatures out there, but now they each would have a family, a genus, a species; no matter how strange an animal might be, it was now under the rubric of scientific study and discussion. Thus, the medieval world's monsters and wonders were, one by one, either incorporated into this taxonomy or excluded as myth. The kraken became the genus Architeuthis, the giant squid; the sea serpent became Regalecus glesne, the giant oarfish.”
Colin Dickey, The Unidentified: Mythical Monsters, Alien Encounters, and Our Obsession with the Unexplained

Cormac McCarthy
“The immappable world of our journey. A pass in the mountains. A bloodstained stone. The marks of steel upon it. Names carved in the corrosible lime among stone fishes and ancient shells. Things dimmed and dimming. The dry sea floor. The tools of migrant hunters. The dreams encased upon the blades of them. The peregrine bones of a prophet. The silence. The gradual extinction of rain. The coming of night.”
Cormac McCarthy, Cities of the Plain

Cormac McCarthy
“Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.”
Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West

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