For the Children and the genuine Prophets (my characterization)
He watched him come through the grass and kneel with the cup of water he’d fetched. There was light all about him. He took the cup and drank and lay back. They had for food a single tin of peaches but he made the boy eat it and he would not take any. I can’t, he said. It’s all right.
I’ll save your half.
Okay. You save it until tomorrow.
He took the cup and moved away and when he moved the light moved with him. He’d wanted to try and make a tent out of the tarp but the man would not let him. He said that he didn’t want anything covering him. He lay watching the boy at the fire.
He wanted to be able to see. Look around you, he said. There is no prophet in the earth’s long chronicle who’s not honored here today. Whatever form you spoke of you were right.
Cormac McCarthy 2006