It was like she was cheated. Only nobody had cheated her. So there was nobody to take it out on. However, just the same she had that feeling. Cheated.
CARSON MCCULLERSThe human heart is a lonely hunter-but the search for us southerners is more anguished.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries.
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I want – I want – I want – was all that she could think about – but just what this real want was she did not know.
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Nothing is so musical as the sound of pouring bourbon for the first drink on a Sunday morning. Not Bach or Schubert or any of those masters.
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And in addition to this our country was founded on what should have been a great, true principle – the freedom, equality, and rights of each individual. Huh! And what has come of that start?
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The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.
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I run these little pieces of myself through her and I come out complete. Now do you follow me?
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All men are lonely. But sometimes it seems to me that we Americans are the loneliest of all. Our hunger for foreign places and new ways has been with us almost like a national disease. Our literature is stamped with a quality of longing and unrest, and our writers have been great wanderers.
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I got to wear blinders all the time so I won’t think sideways or in the past.
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They are the we of me.
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The thinking mind is best controlled by the imagination.
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Death is the great gamer with a sleeve of tricks.
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Writing, for me, is a search for God.
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It is music that causes the heart to broaden and the listener to grow cold with ecstasy and fright.
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This fear is one of the horrors of an author’s life. Where does work come from? What chance, what small episode will start the chain of creation?
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The dimensions of a work of art are seldom realized by the author until the work is accomplished. It is like a flowering dream. Ideas grow, budding silently, and there are a thousand illuminations coming day by day as the work progresses.
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I was like a cat always climbing the wrong tree.
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the way i need you is a loneliness i cannot bear.
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To know who you are, you have to have a place to come from.
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In his face there came to be a brooding peace that is seen most often in the faces of the very sorrowful or the very wise. But still he wandered through the streets of the town, always silent and alone.
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But the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes.
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I have more to say than Hemingway, and God knows, I say it better than Faulkner.
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The memories of childhood are like clear candles in an acre of night, illuminating fixed scenes from surrounding darkness.
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She was afraid of these things that made her suddenly wonder who she was, and what she was going to be in the world, and why she was standing at that minute, seeing a light, or listening, or staring up into the sky: alone.
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Comparing the Brooklyn that I know with Manhattan is like comparing a comfortable and complacent duenna to her more brilliant and neurotic sister.
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When a person knows and can’t make the others understand, what does he do?
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The writer by nature of his profession is a dreamer and a conscious dreamer. He must imagine, and imagination takes humility, love and great courage. How can you create a character without live and the struggle that goes with love?
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