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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.

Carson McCullers

The memories of childhood are like clear candles in an acre of night, illuminating fixed scenes from surrounding darkness.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Acre Candle Child Clear Darkness Fix Illimainate Memory Night Scene Surround
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 MCCULLERS

Cheat Like Nobody Out Same Feel She Take
Maybe 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 MCCULLERS

Fel Different Maybe Thing Understanding Way Word Write
The most fatal thing a man can do is try to stand alone.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Alone Do Fatal Man Most Stand Thing
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

Each Other Event Almost Happen Know never People See
The writer must hew the phantom rock.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Hew Must Phantom Rock Writer
A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lillies of the swamp.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Beautiful Extravagant Love Most Object Person Poison Seldom Wild
For 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 MCCULLERS

Endless Fluid Glimpse Human Humanity Illumination Passage Radiance Saw Struggle Swift Time Valor
The value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Determine Himself Love Lover Quality Solely Value
For fear is a primary source of evil. And when the question “Who am I?” recurs and is unanswered, then fear and frustration project a negative attitude.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Attitude Fear Frustration Negative Primarily Project Question Recur Source Unanswered
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.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Anything Day Druge Else Left Much Night Soul Struggle Thrown Work
Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Being Card Declare Evening Human Library Manage Over Pass Suffer Table Thing
When a person knows and can’t make the others understand, what does he do?
CARSON MCCULLERS

Do Does Know Make Other Person Understand
I want – I want – I want – was all that she could think about – but just what this real want was she did not know.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Could Know Real Think Want
You don’t know what it is to store up a lot of details and then come upon something real.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Come Detail Know Lot Real Something Store
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.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Bad Blankness Could Even Few Her Hut Last Must Left Note Remember She Symphony

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 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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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