There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall.
CARSON MCCULLERSThey are the we of me.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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The trouble with me is that for a long time I have just been an I person.
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All people belong to a We except me. Not to belong to a We makes you too lonesome.
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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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But you haven’t never loved God nor even nair person. You hard and tough as cowhide. But just the same I knows you. This afternoon you going to roam all over the place without never being satisfied.
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Once you have lived with another, it is a great torture to have to live alone.
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Southerners are the more lonely and spiritually estranged, I think, because we have lived so long in an artificial social system that we insisted was natural and right and just – when all along we knew it wasn’t.
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It is music that causes the heart to broaden and the listener to grow cold with ecstasy and fright.
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The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved.
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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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Don’t you loathe it when doctors use the word ‘we’ when it applies only and solely to yourself?
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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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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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There are corporations worth billions of dollars – and hundreds of thousands of people who don’t get to eat.
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Because in some men it is in them to give up everything personal at some time, before it ferments and poisons–throw it to some human being or some human idea. They have to.
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His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
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The seed of the idea is developed by both labor and the unconscious, and the struggle that goes on between them.
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They are the we of me.
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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.
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But no value has been put on human life; it is given to us free and taken without being paid for. What is it worth?
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As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.
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When a person knows and can’t make the others understand, what does he do?
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justice itself is a chimera, a delusion. Justice is not a flat yardstick, applied in equal measure to an equal situation.
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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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the way i need you is a loneliness i cannot bear.
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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.
CARSON MCCULLERS