04 marzo 2008

No country for old men

The sheriff shook his head. Dope, he said.
Dope.
They sell that shit to schoolkids.
It's worse than that.
How's that?
Schoolkids buy it.



He looked at her. After a while he said: It's not about knowin where you are. It's about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about starting over. Or anybody's. You don't start over. That's what it's about. Ever step you take is forever. You cant make it go away. None of it. You understand what I'm saying?
I think so.
I know you dont but let me try it one more time. You think when you wake up in the mornin yesterday dont count. But yesterday is all that does count. What else is there? Your life is made out of the days it's made out of. Nothin else. You might think you could run away and change your name and I dont know what all. Start over. And then one morning you wake up and look at the ceiling and guess who's layin there?

Nessun commento: