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 MCCULLERSWe are homesick most for the places we have never known.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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Maybe when people longed for a thing that bad the longing made them trust in anything that might give it to them.
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The bewildered soul can answer only: “Since I do not understand ‘Who I am,’ I only know what I am not.” The corollary of this emotional incertitude is snobbism, intolerance and racial hate.
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Jesus would be framed and in jail if he was living today.
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The curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many.
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I must go home periodically to renew my sense of horror.
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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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I have more to say than Hemingway, and God knows, I say it better than Faulkner.
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The heart of a hurt child can shrink so that forever afterward it is hard and pitted as the seed of a peach. Or again, the heart of such a child may fester and swell until it is a misery to carry within the body, easily chafed and hurt by the most ordinary things.
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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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Sometimes this fellow’s music was like little colored pieces of crystal candy, and other times it was the softest, saddest thing she had ever imagined about.
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There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries.
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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.
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Death is the great gamer with a sleeve of tricks.
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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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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.
CARSON MCCULLERS