I have more to say than Hemingway, and God knows, I say it better than Faulkner.
CARSON MCCULLERSJesus would be framed and in jail if he was living today.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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Doctors, by God; washing their hands, looking out windows, fiddling with dreadful things while you are stretched out on a table or half undressed on a chair.
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His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
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Sometimes this fellow’s music was like little colored pieces of crystal candy, and other times it was the softest, saddest thing she had ever imagined about.
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The human heart is a lonely hunter-but the search for us southerners is more anguished.
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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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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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Maybe when people longed for a thing that bad the longing made them trust in anything that might give it to them.
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I must go home periodically to renew my sense of horror.
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The mind is like a richly woven tapestry in which the colors are distilled from the experiences of the senses, and the design drawn from the convolutions of the intellect.
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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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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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There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries.
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The memories of childhood have a strange shuttling quality, and areas of darkness ring the spaces of light.
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A writer soon discovers he has no single identity but lives the lives of all the people he creates and his weathers are independent of the actual day around him.
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For you see, when us people who know run into each other that’s an event. It almost never happens. Sometimes we meet each other and neither guesses that the other is one who knows. That’s a bad thing. It’s happened to me a lot of times. But you see there are so few of us.
CARSON MCCULLERS