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How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.
William Faulkner
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William Faulkner
Age: 64 †
Born: 1897
Born: September 25
Died: 1962
Died: July 6
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Screenwriter
Short Story Writer
Writer
New Albany
Mississippi
William Cuthbert Faulkner
William Falkner
William Cuthbert Falkner
Nostalgia
Roof
Beneath
Rain
Strange
Often
Home
Thinking
Lain
More quotes by William Faulkner
I never know what I think about something until I read what I've written on it.
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With me, a story usually begins with a single idea or mental picture. The writing of the story is simply a matter of working up to that moment, to explain why it happened or what caused it to follow.
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Let the past abolish the past when -- and if -- it can substitute something better.
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The writer doesn't need economic freedom. All he needs is a pencil and some paper.
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Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.
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The artist doesn't have time to listen to the critics. The ones who want to be writers read the reviews, the ones who want to write don't have the time to read reviews.
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Well, Bud, he said, looking at me, I'll be damned if you don't go to a lot of trouble to have your fun. Kidnapping, then fighting. What do you do on your holidays? Burn houses?
William Faulkner
We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.
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Just when do men that have different blood in them stop hating one another?
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There were many things I could do for two or three days and earn enough money to live on for the rest of the month. By temperament I'm a vagabond and a tramp.
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I will never lie again.
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I think that-that anyone, the painter, the musician, the writer works in a-a kind of an-an insane fury. He's demon-driven. He can get up feeling rotten, with a hangover, or with-with actual pain, and-and if he gets to work, the first thing he knows, he don't remember that pain, that hangover-he's too busy.
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You men,' she says. 'You durn men.
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I'm bad and I'm going to hell, and I don't care. I'd rather be in hell than anywhere where you are.
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Fear is the most damnable, damaging thing to human personality in the whole world.
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Don't do what you can do - try what you can't do.
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If there was anything at all in the Book, anything of hope and peace for His blind and bewildered spawn which He had chosen above all others to offer immortality, THOU SHALT NOT KILL must be it.
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If I were reincarnated, I'd want to come back a buzzard. Nothing hates him or envies him or wants him or needs him. He is never bothered or in danger, and he can eat anything.
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When my horse is running good, I don't stop to give him sugar.
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Everything in Los Angeles is too large, too loud and usually banal in concept… The plastic asshole of the world.
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