I don’t underestimate any man’s capacity for despicable acts.
Hunting a man is no great thing. They are slow and predictable. They can be found always where their appetites lead them. To eat, to sleep, to f***. Man is no great thing.
Good man. Lived good, died s***ty.
Every time a man holds a baby it ends in screaming tears. And then the baby gets upset, too.
Every man living has a price.
Every man has his weakness. Mine was always just cigarettes.
Every man has hell in his heart, some just more than others.
Every man ever got a statue made of him was one kind of sumbitch or another.
Even a man who knows himself well, who knows his own dark thoughts, can surprise himself with what he’s capable of.
Doesn’t matter what a man has if he doesn’t have purpose. You take that away from him… man usually goes with it.
Destiny is stronger than the wishes of one man.
Cities give one culture, convenience, but they rob man of the thing that makes him man: his insatiable, inexplicable need to traverse untamed land. Battle its monsters, overcome its mountains.
