Between grief and nothing I will take grief.
William Faulkner...like old married people who no longer have anything in common, to do or to talk about, save the same general weight of air to displace and breathe and general oblivious biding earth to bear their weight...
William Faulkner...only the peak feels so sound and stable that the beginning of the falling is hidden for a little while...
William FaulknerIf happy I can be I will, if suffer I must I can.
William FaulknerStichwörter: optimism happiness suffering determination
Il passato non è morto e sepolto. In realtà non è neppure passato
William FaulknerIt does not take long. Soon the fine galloping language, the gutless swooning full of sapless trees and dehydrated lusts begins to swim smooth and swift and peaceful. It is better than praying without having to bother to think aloud. It is like listening in a cathedral to a eunuch chanting in a language which he does not even need to not understand.
William FaulknerThat was when I learned that words are no good; that words dont ever fit even what they are trying to say at. When he was born I knew that motherhood was invented by someone who had to have a word for it because the ones that had the children didn't care whether there was a word for it or not. I knew that fear was invented by someone that had never had the fear; pride, who never had the pride.
William FaulknerJason Lycurgus. Who, driven perhaps by the compulsion of the flamboyant name given him by the sardonic embittered woodenlegged indomitable father who perhaps still believed with his heart that what he wanted to be was a classicist schoolteacher, rode up the Natchez Trace one day in 1811 with a pair of fine pistols and one meagre saddlebag on a small lightwaisted but stronghocked mare which could do the first two furlongs in definitely under the halfminute and the next two in not appreciably more, though that was all.
William FaulknerI give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it.
William FaulknerStichwörter: the-sound-and-the-fury
Maybe times are never strange to women: it is just one continuous monotonous thing full of the repeated follies of their menfolks.
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