Quotes from William Faulkner

?ovjek! Ljudi! Propustit ?e stotinu dobrih prilika samo da se upetlja ondje gdje ga nitko ne traži. Propustit ?e i ne?e opaziti prilike da stekne bogatstvo, slavu ili u?ini neko dobro djelo, a katkada, možda, i zlo. Ali nikada ne?e propustiti da se ne upetlja ondje gdje ga ne treba.

He got off on Lincoln and slavery and dared any man there to deny that Lincoln and the negro and Moses and the children of Israel were the same, and that the Red Sea was just the blood that had to be spilled in order that the black race might cross into the Promised Land.

cada homem é árbitro de suas próprias virtudes, mas homem algum deve prescrever o que é bom para outro homem; e eu: temporariamente; e ele: foi a palavra mais triste de todas, nada mais no mundo não é desespero até que seja tempo, nem mesmo o tempo, até que foi.

The first harsh, sparse, swift drops rush through the leaves and across the ground in a long sigh, as though of relief from intolerable suspense.

a man aint so different from a horse or a mule, come long come short, except a mule or a horse has got a little more sense.

And not only an architect, as General Compson said, but an artist since only an artist could have borne those two years in order to build a house which he doubtless not only expected but firmly intended never to see again.

But this time as soon as he moved she began to fade. He stopped at once, not breathing again, motionless, willing his eyes to see that she had stopped too. But she had not stopped. She was fading, going. Wait, he said, talking as sweet as he had ever heard his voice speak to a woman: Den lemme go wid you, honey. But she was going.

a creature cloistered now by deliberate choice and still in the throes of enforced apprenticeship to, rather than voluntary or even acquiescent participation in, breathing

And when a man that old takes up money-hunting, it's like when he takes up gambling or whisky or women. He aint going to have time to quit.

Il passato non è morto e sepolto. In realtà non è neppure passato

Yet the motion of the saw has not faltered, as though it and the arm functioned in a tranquil conviction that rain was an illusion of the mind.

The work of the artist is to lift up people's hearts and help them endure.

and he then you will remember that for you to go to harvard has been your mothers dream since you were born and no compson has ever disappointed a lady and i temporary it will be better for me for all of us and he every man is the arbiter of his own virtues but let no man prescribe for another mans wellbeing and i temporary and he was the saddest word of all there is nothing else in the world its not despair until time its not even time until it was The last note sounded. At

Ellen was in her late thirties, plump, her face unblemished still. It was as though whatever marks being in the world had left upon it up to the time the aunt vanished had been removed from between the skeleton and the skin, between the sum of experience and the envelope in which it resides, by intervening years of annealing and untroubled flesh.

You tell 'em, big boy; treat 'em rough.

The] Christ story is one of the best stories that man has invented. . . . Faulkner in the University, 117

She [Mrs. Hines] stood before the door as if she were barring them from the house--a dumpy, fat little woman with a round face like dirty and unovened dough, and a tight screw of scant hair.

The orchestra had ceased and were now climbing onto their chairs, with their instruments. The floral offerings flew; the coffin teetered. Catch it! a voice shouted. They sprang forward, but the coffin crashed heavily to the floor, coming open. The corpse tumbled slowly and sedately out and came to rest with its face in the center of a wreath. Play something! the proprietor bawled, waving his arms; play! Play!

Garip ÅŸey, derdin ne olursa olsun erkekler sana diÅŸlerini muayene ettir der, kad?nlar da evlen der. Hayat?nda hiçbir ÅŸeyi baÅŸaramam?? bir adam kalkar sana iÅŸini nas?l yöneteceÄŸini anlat?r. Bir çift çorab? olmayan üniversite profesörlerinin on y?lda nas?l milyoner olunaca??n? ve ömründe bir koca bulamam?? bir kad?n?n aileye nas?l bak?laca??n? anlatmas?na benzer bu.

escaped at last into a world of pure illusion in which, safe from any harm, she moved, lived, from attitude to attitude

Read anthing, trash or trashier; and listen to thrash. Espceially 83-90 era. They will absorb you. You will be in dire need of beer. Now that's something you must be picky of.

Yes, we laughed, because I have learned this at least during these four years: that it really requires an empty stomach to laugh with, that only when you are hungry or frightened do you extract some ultimate essence out of laughing just as the empty stomach extracts the ultimate essence out of alcohol.

I think the story compels its own style to a great extent that the writer don't need to bother too much about style. If he's bothering about style, then he's going to write precious emptiness–-not necessarily nonsense... it'll be quite beautiful and quite pleasing to the ear, but there won't be much content in it. ~William Faulkner~

He had a face like a nutcracker; a scrawny man of no particular age, with merry secretive eyes.