Highlights
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Aint that the drizzlin shits, he said.
Location 1249
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Look around you. Study the judge. I done studied him. Mayhaps he aint to your liking, fair enough. But the man’s a hand at anything. I’ve never seen him turn to a task but what he didnt prove clever at it. The kid drove the greased thread through the leather and hauled it taut. He speaks dutch, said the expriest. Dutch? Aye. The kid looked at the expriest, he bent to his mending. He does for I heard him do it. We cut a parcel of crazy pilgrims down off the Llano and the old man in the lead of them he spoke right up in dutch like we were all of us in dutchland and the judge give him right back. Glanton come near fallin off his horse. We none of us knew him to speak it. Asked where he’d learned it you know what he said? What did he say. Said off a dutchman. The expriest spat. I couldnt of learned it off ten dutchmen. What about you? The kid shook his head.
Location 1697
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The next day on the far side of the mountain we encountered the two lads that had deserted us. Hangin upside down in a tree. They’d been skinned and I can tell ye it does very little for a man’s appearance.
Location 1777
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We hauled forth our members and at it we went and the judge on his knees kneadin the mass with his naked arms and the piss was splashin about and he was cryin out to us to piss, man, piss for your very souls for cant you see the redskins yonder, and laughin the while and workin up this great mass in a foul black dough, a devil’s batter by the stink of it and him not a bloody dark pastryman himself I dont suppose and he pulls out his knife and he commences to trowel it across the southfacin rocks, spreadin it out thin with the knifeblade and watchin the sun with one eye and him smeared with blacking and reekin of piss and sulphur and grinnin and wieldin the knife with a dexterity that was wondrous like he did it every day of his life.
Location 1836
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They rode in a narrow enfilade along a trail strewn with the dry round turds of goats and they rode with their faces averted from the rock wall and the bake-oven air which it rebated, the slant black shapes of the mounted men stenciled across the stone with a definition austere and implacable like shapes capable of violating their covenant with the flesh that authored them and continuing autonomous across the naked rock without reference to sun or man or god.
Location 1927
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Jackson, pistols drawn, lurched into the street vowing to Shoot the ass off Jesus Christ, the longlegged white son of a bitch.
Location 2397
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The idiot was small and misshapen and his face was smeared with feces and he sat peering at them with dull hostility silently chewing a turd.
Location 3304