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The scattered tea goes with the leaves and every day a sunset dies.
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
Scattered
Tea
Sunset
Leaves
Goes
Dies
Every
More quotes by William Faulkner
Our freedom must be buttressed by a homogeny equally and unchallengeably free, no matter what color they are, so that all the other inimical forces everywhere -- systems political or religious or racial or national -- will not just respect us because we practice freedom, they will fear us because we do.
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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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A man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired but then time is your misfortune
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That's the one trouble with this country: everything, weather, all, hangs on too long. Like our rivers, our land: opaque, slow, violent shaping and creating the life of man in its implacable and brooding image.
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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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You can't beat women anyhow and that if you are wise or dislike trouble and uproar you don't even try to.
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People need trouble - a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it.
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If there is a God what the hell is He for?
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The air brightened, the running shadow patches were now the obverse, and it seemed to him that the fact that the day was clearing was another cunning stroke on the part of the foe, the fresh battle toward which he was carrying ancient wounds.
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It is my ambition to be, as a private individual, abolished and voided from history, leaving it markless, no refuse save the printed books. [] It is my aim, and every effort bent, that the sum and history of my life, which in the same sentence is my obit and epitaph too, shall be them both: he made the books and he died.
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And sure enough, even waiting will end...if you can just wait long enough.
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She clung to that which had robbed her, as people do.
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It is not proof that I sought. I, of all men, know that proof is but a fallacy invented by man to justify to himself and his fellows his own crass lust and folly.
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They will endure. They are better than we are. Stronger than we are. Their vices are vices aped from white men or that white men and bondage have taught them: improvidence and intemperance and evasion-not laziness: evasion: of what white men had set them to, not for their aggrandizement or even comfort but his own.
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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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The salvation of the world is in man's suffering.
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You don't dare think whole even to yourself the entirety of a dear hope or wish let alone a desperate one else you yourself have doomed it.
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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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Pouring out liquor is like burning books.
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When I was little there was a picture in one of our books, a dark place into which a single weak ray of light came slanting upon two faces lifted out of the shadow.
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