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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

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Endless Fluid Glimpse Human Humanity Illumination Passage Radiance Saw Struggle Swift Time Valor

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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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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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The people dreamed and fought and slept as much as ever. And by habit they shortened their thoughts so that they would not wander out into the darkness beyond tomorrow.
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Once you have lived with another, it is a great torture to have to live alone.
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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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Love is affirmation; it motivates the yes responses and the sense of wider communication. Love casts out fear, and in the security of this togetherness we find contentment, courage.
CARSON MCCULLERS

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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.
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There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall.
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Through the lies, she lived vicariously. The lies doubled the little of her existence that was left over from work and augmented the little rag end of her personal life.
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Owing to the fact he was a mute they were able to give him all the qualities they wanted him to have.
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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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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 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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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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Wherever you look there’s meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss.
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We wander, question. But the answer waits in each separate heart – the answer of our own identity and the way by which we can master loneliness and feel that at last we belong.
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