From The Road by Cormac McCarthy
"He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said: If he is not the word of God God never spoke"
"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. they smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man the they hummed of mystery."