And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being loved is intolerable to many.
CARSON MCCULLERSIt 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.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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We wander, question. But the answer waits in each separate heart – the answer of our own identity and the way by which we can master loneliness and feel that at last we belong.
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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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All people belong to a We except me. Not to belong to a We makes you too lonesome.
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The music left only this bad hurt in her, and a blankness. She could not remember any of the symphony, not even the last few notes. She tried to remember, but no sound at all came to her. Now that it was over there was only her heart like a rabbit and this terrible hurt.
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Day and night she had drudged and struggled and thrown her soul into her work, and there was not much of her left over for anything else.
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The value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
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But look what the Church has done to Jesus during the last two thousand years. What they have made of Him. How they have turned every word He spoke for their own vile ends. Jesus would be framed and in jail if he was living today.
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Love is the main generator of all good writing… Love, passion, compassion, are all welded together.
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After the first establishment of identity there comes the imperative need to lose this new-found sense of separateness and to belong to something larger and more powerful than the weak, lonely self. The sense of moral isolation is intolerable to us.
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But no value has been put on human life; it is given to us free and taken without being paid for. What is it worth?
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Resentment is the most precious flower of poverty.
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There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries.
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The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterward it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things.
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I have more to say than Hemingway, and God knows, I say it better than Faulkner.
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It was like they waited to tell each other things that had never been told before. What she had to say was terrible and afraid. But what he would tell her was so true that it would make everything all right.
CARSON MCCULLERS