Coming down was the hardest part of any climbing.
CARSON MCCULLERSBecause 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.
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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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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The world is certainty a sudden place.
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The 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.
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Love is the main generator of all good writing… Love, passion, compassion, are all welded together.
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But the hearts of small children are delicate organs. A cruel beginning in this world can twist them into curious shapes.
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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 writer must hew the phantom rock.
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I´m a stranger in a strange land.
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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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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.
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There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall.
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I see a green tree. And to me it is green. And you would call the tree green also. And we would agree on this. But is the colour you see as green the same colour I see as green?
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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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It was better to be in a jail where you could bang the walls than in a jail you could not see.
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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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The writer is by nature a dreamer – a conscious dreamer.
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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.
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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.
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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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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.
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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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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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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.
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Next to music beer was best.
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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.
CARSON MCCULLERS