You don’t know what it is to store up a lot of details and then come upon something real.
CARSON MCCULLERSThe mind is like a richly woven tapestry in which the colors are distilled from the experiences of the senses, and the design drawn from the convolutions of the intellect.
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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After the first establishment of identity there comes the imperative need to lose this new-found sense of separateness and to belong to something larger and more powerful than the weak, lonely self. The sense of moral isolation is intolerable to us.
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Imagination takes humility, love and great courage.
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A seed grows in writing as in nature. 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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I want – I want – I want – was all that she could think about – but just what this real want was she did not know.
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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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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 world is certainty a sudden place.
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Coming down was the hardest part of any climbing.
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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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Being human, she suffered from this lack and did what she could to make up for it. If she passed the evening bent over a table in the library and later declared that she had spent that time playing cards, it was as though she had managed to do both those things.
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Can you wonder it is so miserable? Do you know how men should love? A tree. A rock. A cloud.
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When a person knows and can’t make the others understand, what does he do?
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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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The memories of childhood are like clear candles in an acre of night, illuminating fixed scenes from surrounding darkness.
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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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