The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.
CARSON MCCULLERSWe are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange.
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The value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
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You going to traipse all around like you haves to find something lost. You going to work yourself up with excitement. Your heart going to beat hard enough to kill you because you don’t love and don’t have peace. And then some day you going to bust loose and be ruined.
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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.
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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 have a strange shuttling quality, and areas of darkness ring the spaces of light.
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Love of another individual opens a new relation between the personality and the world. The lover responds in a new way to nature and may even write poetry.
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As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.
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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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Falling in love is the easiest thing in the world. It’s standing in love that matters.
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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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I have never gone to a doctor in my adult life, feeling instinctively that doctors meant either cutting or, just as bad, diet.
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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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We are homesick most for the places we have never known.
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I think we look for the differences in people because it makes us less lonely.
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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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Love is the bridge that leads from the I sense to the We, and there is a paradox about personal love.
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But you haven’t never loved God nor even nair person. You hard and tough as cowhide. But just the same I knows you. This afternoon you going to roam all over the place without never being satisfied.
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Coming down was the hardest part of any climbing.
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There is so much truth in children and so little self-consciousness. It always strikes me that they are so capable of losing and finding themselves and also losing and finding those things they feel close to.
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A fellow can’t live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness. Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear-and nobody seems to know. Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed-stupid and mean.
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Because in some men it is in them to give up everything personal at some time, before it ferments and poisons–throw it to some human being or some human idea. They have to.
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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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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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The seed of the idea is developed by both labor and the unconscious, and the struggle that goes on between them.
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I once wrote a story about a writer who could not write anymore, and my friend Tennessee Williams said, ‘How could you dare write that story, it’s the most frightening work I have ever read.’ I was pretty well sunk while I was writing it.
CARSON MCCULLERS