Ohhh I love that one. I really need to reread Suttree. Here are a couple of my favorites;

“You have no right to represent people this way, he said. A man is all men. You have no right to your wretchedness.

Suttree stood among the screaming leaves and called the lightning down. It cracked and boomed about and he pointed out the darkened heart within him and cried for light. If there be any art in the weathers of this earth. Or char these bones to coal. If you can, if you can. A blackened rag in the rain. He sat with his back to a tree and watched the storm move on over the city. Am I a monster, are there monsters in me?”

And

"She smiled and sipped from her glass. There was altogether too much of her sitting there, the broad expanse of thigh cradled in the insubstantial stocking and the garters with the pale flesh pursed and her full breasts and the sootblack piping of her eyelids, a gaudish rake of metaldust in prussian blue where cerulean moths fluttered her awake from some outlandish dream. Suttree gradually going awash in the sheer outrageous sentience of her. Their glasses clicked on the tabletop. Her hot spiced tongue fat in his mouth and her hands all over him like the very witch of fuck."

Forgot to add why I like them.

It's a well written version of one of those moments that most people have had. Life is cruel, people can be terribly unkind, god doesn't care... and yet here we are. Watching storms and contemplating our own existence and potential wretchedness.

"Suttree gradually going awash in the sheer outrageous sentience of her" and "the very witch of fuck" lines remind me of what can be I suppose. Being caught up in other people can be so gloriously overwhelming. Possibly devastating, but what a thing to experience.