All the Pretty Horses

I finally felt inspired to read Cormac McCarthy's Border Trilogy (All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, Cities of the Plain). I can already tell I'm going to love it. I've had a hard time getting into several other books over the past couple months--ever since I finished 100 Years of Solitude (how do you follow Marquez' masterpiece without experiencing at least some degree of letdown?) But prose like the following paragraph seems to be the way out of my boredom:

"They rode out along the fenceline and across the open pastureland. The leather creaked in the morning cold. They pushed the horses into a lope. The lights fell away behind them. They rose out on the high prairie where they slowed the horses to a walk and the stars swarmed around them out of the blackness. They heard somewhere in the tenantless night a bell that tolled and ceased where no bell was and they rode out on the round dais of the earth which alone was dark and no light to it and which carried their figures and bore them up into the swarming stars so that they rode not under but among them and they rode at once jaunty and circumspect, like thieves newly loosed in that dark electric, like young thieves in a glowing orchard, loosely jacketed against the cold and ten thousand worlds for the choosing." (p. 30)