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The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.

William Faulkner

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You could do so much for me if you just would. If you just knew. I am I and you are you and I know it and you don’t know it and you could do so much for me if you just would and if you just would then I could tell you and then nobody would have to know it except you and me.
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Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.
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The best fiction is far more true than any journalism.
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Hollywood is a place where a man can get stabbed in the back while climbing a ladder.
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No battle is ever won … victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.
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All l mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings, only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way.
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You don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.
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There is no such thing as bad whiskey. Some whiskeys just happen to be better than others. But a man shouldn’t fool with booze until he’s fifty; then he’s a damn fool if he doesn’t.
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The past is never dead. It’s not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity.
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Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist’s way of scribbling “Kilroy was here” on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.
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Always Artist Behind Final Important Importantly Irrevocable Leave Man Mortal Oblivion Pass Possible Since Someday Something Through Wall
The past is never dead, it is not even past.
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