“Fusing heaven to earth, the Big Horn Mountains stood before him. A few clouds swirled around the highest peaks, furthering the illusion of a wall reaching forever upward. His eyes watered from the glare of the sun against snow, but he could not look away. Nothing in Glass’s twenty years on the plains had prepared him for such mountains.
Captain Henry had spoken often of the enormity of the Rockies, but Glass assumed his stories were infused with the standard dose of campfire embellishment. In actuality, Glass thought, Henry’s portrait had been woefully inadequate. Henry was a straightforward man, and his descriptions focused on the mountains as obstacles, barriers to be surmounted in the drive to connect a stream of commerce between east and west. Missing entirely from Henry’s description had been any hint of the devout strength that flowed into Glass at the sight of the massive peaks. […]
His awe of the mountains grew in the days that followed, as the Yellowstone River led him nearer and nearer. Their great mass was a marker, a benchmark fixed against time itself. Others might feel disquiet at the notion of something so much larger than themselves. But for Glass, there was a sense of sacrament that flowed from the mountains like a font, an immortality that made his quotidian pains seem inconsequential.”
― The Revenant
Captain Henry had spoken often of the enormity of the Rockies, but Glass assumed his stories were infused with the standard dose of campfire embellishment. In actuality, Glass thought, Henry’s portrait had been woefully inadequate. Henry was a straightforward man, and his descriptions focused on the mountains as obstacles, barriers to be surmounted in the drive to connect a stream of commerce between east and west. Missing entirely from Henry’s description had been any hint of the devout strength that flowed into Glass at the sight of the massive peaks. […]
His awe of the mountains grew in the days that followed, as the Yellowstone River led him nearer and nearer. Their great mass was a marker, a benchmark fixed against time itself. Others might feel disquiet at the notion of something so much larger than themselves. But for Glass, there was a sense of sacrament that flowed from the mountains like a font, an immortality that made his quotidian pains seem inconsequential.”
― The Revenant
“Yet it wasn’t the Mississippi River that captured Jim Bridger’s imagination : it was the Missouri. A mere six likes from his ferry the two great rivers joined as one, the wild waters of the frontier pouring into the bromide current of the everyday. It was the confluence of old and new, known and unknown, civilization and wilderness. Bridger lived for the rare moments when the fur traders and voyageurs tied their sleek Mackinaws at the ferry landing, sometimes even camping for the night. He marveled at their tales of savage Indians, teeming game, forever plains, and soaring mountains.
The frontier for Bridger became an aching presence that he could feel, but could not define, a magnetic force pulling him inexorably toward something that he had heard about, but never seen. A preacher on a swaybacked mule rode Bridger’s ferry one day. He asked Bridger if he knew God’s mission for him in life. Without pause Bridger answered, “Go to the Rockies”. The preacher was elated, urging the boy to consider missionary work with the savages. Bridger had no interest in bringing Jesus to the Indians, but the conversation stuck with him. The boy came to believe that going west was more than just a fancy for someplace new. He came to see it as a part of his soul, a missing piece that could only be made whole on some far-off mountain or plain.”
― The Revenant
The frontier for Bridger became an aching presence that he could feel, but could not define, a magnetic force pulling him inexorably toward something that he had heard about, but never seen. A preacher on a swaybacked mule rode Bridger’s ferry one day. He asked Bridger if he knew God’s mission for him in life. Without pause Bridger answered, “Go to the Rockies”. The preacher was elated, urging the boy to consider missionary work with the savages. Bridger had no interest in bringing Jesus to the Indians, but the conversation stuck with him. The boy came to believe that going west was more than just a fancy for someplace new. He came to see it as a part of his soul, a missing piece that could only be made whole on some far-off mountain or plain.”
― The Revenant
“Are you even aware of hot hot and cold you are? How you seduce and then withdraw, tantalize and then retreat? Even with men you're like that. You're a mystery to people, you keep us off-balance and guessing. We have to presume what you're thinking or feeling. And instead of being frustrated we find ourselves fascinated, and we make things up about you out of our own hopes and needs and all the dangerous things we're afraid to do.”
― The Kid
― The Kid
“Oh, he was so dashing and romantic and cast-out by the world, I couldn’t help but love him. […] He was a figure out of a girl’s storybook. Gentle, adoring, dangerous, strong. Surely you must have felt the same things. He has a magic about him. He steps straight into your heart.”
― The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
― The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
“Tout cela me confortait dans mon intuition, souvent moquée par mes amis, que l’homme était fondamentalement bon – à condition d’être en rapport direct et vital avec d’autres hommes. Impersonnel, un système social écarte l’homme de l’homme. Dans la lézarde ainsi creusée, la plante du ressentiment pousse et nourrit la fraude, le parasitisme et l’abus – puisqu’on ne voit jamais qui paie ni qui souffre de nos abus. On espère que c’est le système qui paie quand lui se contente de répartir les coûts et d’inoculer ce que chacun, par sa rancœur, fait subir de manière diffuse à tous. Les dysfonctionnements s’accroissent, les honnêtes gens s’en prennent aux saboteurs et bientôt les imitent … On se retrouve contraint, pour maintenir la cohésion sociale, d’instaurer un contrôle maniaque et vétilleux sur le moindre petit comportement fautif de chaque citoyen. Et ça donne Cerclon : la démocratie comme liberticide collectif …”
― La Zone du dehors
― La Zone du dehors
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