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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 McCullers

Maybe when people longed for a thing that bad the longing made them trust in anything that might give it to them.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Been Just Long Time Trouble
Love is the main generator of all good writing… Love, passion, compassion, are all welded together.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Compassion Generator Good Love Main Passion Thing Together Welded Writing
Writing, for me, is a search for God.
CARSON MCCULLERS

God Me Search Write
There’s nothing that makes you so aware of the improvisation of human existence as a song unfinished. Or an old address book.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Address Aware Book Existence Human Improvision Make Nothing Song Unfinish
You don’t know what it is to store up a lot of details and then come upon something real.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Come Detail Know Lot Real Something Store
Once you have lived with another, it is a great torture to have to live alone.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Alone Author Great Live Once Torture
The closest thing to being cared for is to care for someone else.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Being Care Close Else Someone Thing
But the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Children Delicate Heart Organ Small
A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lillies of the swamp.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Beautiful Extravagant Love Most Object Person Poison Seldom Wild
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 MCCULLERS

Bad Blankness Could Even Few Her Hut Last Must Left Note Remember She Symphony
Maybe it was a thing that could not be spoken with words or writing. Maybe he would have to let her understand this in a different way. That was the feeling she had with him.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Fel Different Maybe Thing Understanding Way Word Write
Nothing is so musical as the sound of pouring bourbon for the first drink on a Sunday morning. Not Bach or Schubert or any of those masters.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Bourbon Drink First Master Morning Musical Nothing Pour Sound Sunday
The writer must hew the phantom rock.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Hew Must Phantom Rock Writer
I am not meant to be alone and without you who understands.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Alone Meant Understand Without
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

Endless Fluid Glimpse Human Humanity Illumination Passage Radiance Saw Struggle Swift Time Valor
It was like they waited to tell each other things that had never been told before. What she had to say was terrible and afraid. But what he would tell her was so true that it would make everything all right.
CARSON MCCULLERS

Been Before Each never Other Thing Walk

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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