This is the final and ferocious conclusion to McCarthy's Border Trilogy which I recommend in its magnificent entirety. It is about men born out of time and about an unarticulated American mythology. It is quite brilliantly written. Requires concentration but this is one you should make time for. On a scale of one to ten, this merits eleven.
She patted his hand. Gnarled, ropescarred, speckled from the sun and the years of it. The ropy veins that bound them to his heart. There was map enough for men to read. There God's plenty of signs and wonders to make a landscape. To make a world.
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