the listening part is afraid that there may not be time to say it". Dewey Dell - As I Lay Dying.
William FaulknerMots clés faulkner
[...] después se enteró que John había muerto. Pero lo había hecho muy lejos, al otro lado del mar, y no existía un cuerpo que devolver torpe y tediosamente a la tierra, y por eso a ella le parecía que todavía se estaba riendo de aquella palabra, muerte, como se había reído de los otros conjuntos de sonidos que querían indicar reposo; le parecía que John no había esperado a que el Tiempo le enseñara que la meta de la prudencia es soñar lo bastante alto como para no perder el sueño mientras se está empeñado en su búsqueda.
William FaulknerLove doesn't die; the men and women do.
William FaulknerThe good artist believes that nobody is good enough to give him advice. He has supreme vanity. No matter how much he admires the old writer, he wants to beat him.
William Faulknerزندگی افسانه ای است که از زبان دیوانه ای نقل شود، آکنده از خشم و هیاهو که هیچ معنایی ندارد
William FaulknerGet it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it's the only way you can do anything good.
William FaulknerMots clés writing
We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.
William FaulknerMots clés freedom
And George Farr had the town, the earth, the world to himself and his sorrow. Music came faint as a troubling rumor beneath the spring night, sweetened by distance: a longing knowing no ease. (Oh God, oh God!)
At last George Farr gave up trying to see her. He had 'phoned vainly and time after time, at last the telephone became the end in place of the means: he had forgotten why he wanted to reach her. Finally he told himself that he hated her, that he would go away; finally he was going to as much pains to avoid her as he had been to see her. So he slunk about the streets like a criminal, avoiding her, feeling his his very heart stop when he did occasionally see her unmistakable body from a distance. And at night he lay sleepless and writhing to think of her, then to rise and don a few garments and walk past her darkened house, gazing in slow misery at the room in which he knew she lay, soft and warm, in intimate slumber, then to return to home and bed to dream of her brokenly.
A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream.
William FaulknerNo one is without Christianity, if we agree on what we mean by that word. It is every individual's individual code of behavior by means of which he makes himself a better human being than his nature wants to be, if he followed his nature only. Whatever its symbol - cross or crescent or whatever - that symbol is man's reminder of his duty inside the human race.
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