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How do our lives ravel out into the no-wind, no-sound, the weary gestures wearily recapitulant: echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-string: in sunset we fall into furious attitudes, dead gestures of dolls.
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
Dead
Compulsion
Attitude
Attitudes
Hand
Echoes
Wearily
Sound
Gestures
Ravel
Lives
Weary
Compulsions
Fall
Sunset
Dolls
Hands
Strings
Furious
Wind
String
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Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: it must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all.
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There are some things for which three words are three too many, and three thousand words that many words too less.
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How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.
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You should approach Joyce's Ulysses as the illiterate Baptist preacher approaches the Old Testament: with faith.
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Pointless. . . . Like giving caviar to an elephant.
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The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself
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The end of wisdom is to dream high enough to lose the dream in the seeking of it.
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It's always the idle habits you acquire which you will regret. Father said that. That Christ was not crucified: he was worn away by a minute clicking of little wheels. That had no sister.
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A dream is not a very safe thing to be near... I know I had one once. It's like a loaded pistol with a hair trigger: if it stays alive long enough, somebody is going to be hurt. But if it's a good dream, it's worth it.
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The writer's only responsibility is to his art...If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate the 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' is worth any number of old ladies.
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