Recently I Finished Rereading Blood Meridian And That Has Caused Me To Search For Any Similarities To

The shadows of the smallest stones lay like pencil lines across the sand and the shapes of the men and their mounts advanced elongate before them like strands of the night from which they'd ridden, like tentacles to bind them to the darkness yet to come Blood Meridian

And they are dancing, the board floor slamming under the jackboots and the fiddlers grinning hideously over their canted pieces. Towering over them all is the judge and he is naked dancing, his small feet lively and quick and now in double-time and bowing to the ladies, huge and pale and hairless, like an enormous infant. He never sleeps, he says. He says he’ll never die. He bows to the fiddlers and sashays backward and throws back his head and laughs deep in his throat and he is a great favorite, the judge. He wafts his hat and the lunar dome of his skull passes palely under the lamps and he swings about and takes possession of one of the fiddles and he pirouettes and makes a pass, two passes, dancing and fiddling at once. His feet are light and nimble. He never sleeps. He says that he will never die. He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die.

(added the music, myself 😊)

🎻 Artwork: The Judge - Aleksey Efremov 🎻 Music: Devil's Trill Sonata - Giuseppe Tartini

by Waldemar Świerzy

Don't ever, ever listen to the jinn. The jinn? Jinn. Desert spirits. They whisper at night. They can posses you.

Javier Bardem and Josh Brolin on the set of NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007).

The father dead has euchered the son out of his patrimony. For it is the death of the father to which the son is entitled and to which he is heir, more so than his goods. He will not hear of the small mean ways that tempered the man in life. He will not see him struggling in follies of his own devising. No. The world which he inherits bears him false witness. He is broken before a frozen god and he will never find his way.

— Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

the doctor himself

but you're outside making permanent love to the nuclear age

catholics in 1793 be like