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 MCCULLERSAnd 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?
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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Resentment is the most precious flower of poverty.
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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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The Heart is a Lonely Hunter had such an illumination, beginning my long search for the truth of the story and flashing light into the long two years ahead.
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There’s nothing that makes you so aware of the improvisation of human existence as a song unfinished. Or an old address book.
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The value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.
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We live in the richest country in the world. There’s plenty and to spare for no man, woman, or child to be in want.
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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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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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How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind?
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Can you wonder it is so miserable? Do you know how men should love? A tree. A rock. A cloud.
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Love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved.
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And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being loved is intolerable to many.
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Next to music beer was best.
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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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She wished there was some place where she could go to hum it out loud. Some kind of music was too private to sing in a house cram fall of people. It was funny, too, how lonesome a person could be in a crowded house.
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She stood in front of the mirror a long time, and finally decided she either looked like a sap or else she looked very beautiful. One or the other.
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People, unless they are nilly-willy or very sick, cannot be taken into the hands and be changed overnight into somthing more worth-while and profitable.
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I live with the people I create and it has always made my essential loneliness less keen.
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It was better to be in a jail where you could bang the walls than in a jail you could not see.
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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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The whole world was this symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen… Now that it was over there was only her heart beating like a rabbit and this terrible hurt.
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I run these little pieces of myself through her and I come out complete. Now do you follow me?
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The writer is by nature a dreamer – a conscious dreamer.
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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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I think we look for the differences in people because it makes us less lonely.
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I’m not explaining this right. What happened was this. There were these beautiful feelings and loose little pleasures inside me. And this woman was something like an assembly line for my soul.
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