Cormac McCarthy
273 citations

The blackness he woke to on those nights was sightless and impenetrable. A blackness to hurt your ears with listening. Often he had to get up. No sound but the wind in the trees. He rose and stood tottering in that cold autistic dark with his arms outheld for balance while the vestibular calculations in his skull cranked out their reckonings. ✨ Cormac McCarthy (2007). The Road, p.13, Vintage

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Sadness

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