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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.
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
Late
Days
Nostalgic
Home
Eager
Something
August
Like
Nostalgia
Thin
Familiar
Air
More quotes by William Faulkner
To me, all human behavior is unpredictable and, considering man's frailty... and... the ramshackle universe he functions in, it's... all irrational.
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Try to be better than yourself.
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A man's moral conscience is the curse he had to accept from the gods in order to gain from them the right to dream.
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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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It's all now you see: tomorrow began yesterday and yesterday won't be over until tomorrow.
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People need trouble - a little frustration to sharpen the spirit on, toughen it.
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It wasn't until the Nobel Prize that they really thawed out. They couldn't understand my books, but they could understand $30,000.
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If there is a God what the hell is He for?
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The artist is still a little like the old court jester. He's supposed to speak his vicious paradoxes with some sense in them, but he isn't part of whatever the fabric is that makes a nation.
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It is the writer's privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart.
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The reason I don't like interviews is that I seem to react violently to personal questions. If the questions are about the work, I try to answer them. When they are about me, I may answer or I may not, but even if I do, if the same question is asked tomorrow, the answer may be different.
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My ideal job? Landlord of a bordello! The company's good and the mornings are quiet, which is the best time to write.
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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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Caddy smelled like trees.
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The good artist believes that nobody is good enough to give him advice. He has supreme vanity. No matter how much he admires the old writer, he wants to beat him.
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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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the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat
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Wonder. Go on and wonder.
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Henry James was one of the nicest old ladies I ever met.
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A gentleman accepts the responsibility of his actions and bears the burden of their consequences.
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