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And when I think about that, I think that if nothing but being married will help a man, he's durn nigh hopeless.
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
Thinking
Nigh
Hopeless
Married
Help
Helping
Nothing
Men
Think
More quotes by William Faulkner
That's sad too, people cannot do anything that dreadful they cannot do anything very dreadful at all they cannot even remember tomorrow what seemed dreadful today
William Faulkner
All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. So I rate us on the base of our splendid failure to do the impossible.
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I listen to the voices.
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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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I never promise a woman anything nor let her know what I'm going to give her. That's the only way to manage them. Always keep them guessing. If you cant think of any other way to surprise them, give them a bust in the jaw.
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In writing, you must kill all your darlings.
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It seems impossible for a man to learn the value of money without first having to learn to waste it.
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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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Purity is a negative state and therefore contrary to nature.
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The quality an artist must have is objectivity in judging his work, plus the honesty and courage not to kid himself about it.
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Let the past abolish the past when -- and if -- it can substitute something better.
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Who gathers the withered rose?
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You men,' she says. 'You durn men.
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All men are just accumulations dolls stuffed with sawdust swept up from the trash heaps where all previous dolls had been thrown away.
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This does not matter. This is not anything yet. It all depends on what you do with it, afterward.
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I learned little save that most of the deeds, good and bad both, incurring opprobrium or plaudits or reward either, within the scope of man's abilities, had already been performed and were to be learned about only from books.
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Living is one constant and perpetual instant when the arras-veil before what-is-to-be hangs docile and even glad to the lightest naked thrust if we had dared, were brave enough (not wise enough: no wisdom needed here) to make the rending gash.
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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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An artist is completely amoral in that he will rob, beg, borrow, or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done.
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War is an episode, a crisis, a fever the purpose of which is to rid the body of fever. So the purpose of a war is to end the war.
William Faulkner
