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Dear God, let me be damned a little longer, a little while.
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
Littles
Little
Damned
Dear
Longer
More quotes by William Faulkner
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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In my opinion it's a shame that there is so much work in the world.
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True poetry is not of earth, 'T is more of Heaven by its birth.
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To the man grown the long crowded mile of his boyhood becomes less than the throw of a stone.
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People to whom sin is just a matter of words, to them salvation is just words too.
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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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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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A fellow gets to thinking. About all the sorrow and afflictions in this world how it's liable to strike anywhere, like lightning.
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All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection.
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How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.
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We must just stay awake and see evil done for a little while it's not always.
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Surely heaven must have something of the color and shape of whatever village or hill or cottage of which the believer says, This is my own.
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My, my. A body does get around.
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He was looking at her from behind the smiling that wasn't smiling but was something you were not supposed to see beyond.
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The writer's only responsibility is to his art.
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...the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead a long time.
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Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.
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A writer needs three things, experience, observation, and imagination, any two of which, at times any one of which, can supply the lack of the others.
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She was bored. She loved, had capacity to love, for love, to give and accept love. Only she tried twice and failed twice to find somebody not just strong enough to deserve it, earn it, match it, but even brave enough to accept it.
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Caddy got the box and set it on the floor and opened it. It was full of stars. When I was still, they were still. When I moved, they glinted and sparkled. I hushed.
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