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Perhaps they were right putting love into books. Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.

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
Books
Else
Live
Book
Right
Love
Anywhere
Putting
Perhaps

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She forced herself once more to think of nothing, to keep her consciousness immersed, as a little dog that one keeps under water until he has stopped struggling
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It is as though the space between us were time: an irrevocable quality. It is as though time, no longer running straight before us in a diminishing line, now runs parallel between us like a looping string, the distance being the doubling accretion of the thread an not the interval between.
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I've got to feel the pencil and see the words at the end of the pencil.
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All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection.
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A hack writer who would have been considered fourth rate in Europe, who tried out a few of the old proven 'sure-fire' literary skeletons with sufficient local color to intrigue the superficial and the lazy.
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...and you don't even have to sleep alone, you don't even have to sleep at all and so, all you have to do is show the stick to the dog now and then and say, 'Thank God for nothing.'
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The only rule I have is to quit while it’s still hot. Never write yourself out. Always quit when it’s going good. Then it’s easier to take it up again. If you exhaust yourself, then you’ll get into a dead spell and you’ll have trouble with it.
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...how false the most profound book turns out to be when applied to life.
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For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it's still not yet two o'clock on that July afternoon in 1863...
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A writer is congenitally unable to tell the truth and that is why we call what he writes fiction.
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It used to be I thought of death as a man something like Grandfather a friend of his a kind of private and particular friend like we used to think of Grandfather's desk not to touch it not even to talk loud in the room where it was.
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A writer strives to express a universal truth in the way that rings the most bells in the shortest amount of time.
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I draw no petty social lines. A man to me is a man, wherever I find him.
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Read, read, read. Read everything -- trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You'll absorb it. Then write. If it's good, you'll find out. If it's not, throw it out of the window.
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Men have been pacifists for every reason under the sun except to avoid danger and fighting.
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Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.
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A man is the sum of his misfortunes.
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Caddy smelled like trees.
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The only environment the artist needs is whatever peace, whatever solitude, and whatever pleasure he can get at not too high a cost.
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If there is a God what the hell is He for?
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