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.
CARSON MCCULLERSLove 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.
CARSON MCCULLERSI 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 MCCULLERSThe 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.
CARSON MCCULLERSResentment is the most precious flower of poverty.
CARSON MCCULLERSOwing to the fact he was a mute they were able to give him all the qualities they wanted him to have.
CARSON MCCULLERSHis own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
CARSON MCCULLERSAll people belong to a We except me. Not to belong to a We makes you too lonesome.
CARSON MCCULLERSThis music was her-the real plain her…This music did not take a long time or a short time. It did not have anything to do with time going by at all. She sat with her arms around her legs, biting her salty knee very hard.
CARSON MCCULLERSIt is music that causes the heart to broaden and the listener to grow cold with ecstasy and fright.
CARSON MCCULLERSAll 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.
CARSON MCCULLERSThey are the we of me.
CARSON MCCULLERSThe trouble with me is that for a long time I have just been an I person.
CARSON MCCULLERSLove is the bridge that leads from the I sense to the We, and there is a paradox about personal love.
CARSON MCCULLERSFor in a swift radiance of illumination he saw a glimpse of human struggle and valor. Of the endless fluid passage of the humanity through endless time. And of those who labor and of those who – one word- love. His soul expanded. But for a moment only. For in him, he felt a warning, a shaft of terror.
CARSON MCCULLERSMaybe it was a thing that could not be spoken with words or writing. Maybe he would have to let her understand this in a different way. That was the feeling she had with him.
CARSON MCCULLERSBut the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes.
CARSON MCCULLERS