“They rode on. They rode like men invested with a purpose whose origins were antecedent to them, like blood legatees of an order both imperative and remote. For although each man among them was discrete unto himself, conjoined they made a thing that had not been before and in that communal soul were wastes hardly reckonable more than those whited regions on old maps where monsters do live and where there is nothing other of the known world save conjectural winds.”
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                Cormac McCarthy
            
        
        
            
                
                    , 
                
                
                    book 
                
                
                
                    Blood Meridian
                
            
        
        
    
    
        
        
        
            
            
        
        
        
        
        
        Source: Blood Meridian (1985), Chapter XII
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                                Cormac McCarthy 270
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