my suggestion was that every night, upon going to bed, he place a chair beside his bed and tell himself that Jesus was sitting in that chair all night, watching over him and lifting the burden of worry from his shoulders.

The burden of this world is too great for one man to bear, and the world's sorrow too heavy for one heart to suffer.

What he could bear in the waking world he could not by night and he sat awake for fear the dream would return.

See the hand that nursed the serpent. The fine hasped pipes of her fingerbones. The skin bewenned and speckled. The veins are milkblue and bulby. A thin gold ring set with diamonds. That raised the once child's heart of her to agonies of passion before I was. Here is the anguish of mortality. Hopes wrecked, love sundered. See the mother sorrowing. How everything that I was warned of's come to pass.

If the world itself is a horror then there is nothing to fix and the only thing you could be protected from would be the contemplation of it.

And it may even be that in the end all problems are spiritual problems.

My daddy used to tell me not to chew on somethin that was eatin you. Yessir.

Mire, mire! called the man. He was fishing about in his pockets and soon he was juggling four small wooden balls in front of Glanton's horse. The horse snorted and lifted its head and Glanton leaned over the saddle and spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Aint that the drizzlin shits, he said.

When we live by faith, we believe that God has everything under control. But if we start to worry, how we live says the opposite.

She had borne so long this cruelty of belonging to him and not being claimed by him.

She lost her illusions in the collapse of her sympathies.

But he had been so much hurt that something inside him had perished, some of his feelings had gone. There was a blank of insentience.