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 MCCULLERSThe trouble with me is that for a long time I have just been an I person.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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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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I must go home periodically to renew my sense of horror.
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This fear is one of the horrors of an author’s life. Where does work come from? What chance, what small episode will start the chain of creation?
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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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This was her, Mick Kelly, walking in the daytime and by herself at night. In the hot sun and in the dark with all the plans and feelings.
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We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange.
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I meditated on love and reasoned it out. I realized what is wrong with us. Men fall in love for the first time. And what do they fall in love with? …They fall in love with a woman. They start at the wrong end of love. They begin at the climax.
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Imagination takes humility, love and great courage.
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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.
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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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And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being loved is intolerable to many.
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The xenophobic individual can only reject and destroy, as the xenophobic nation inevitably makes war.
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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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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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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.
CARSON MCCULLERS






