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.
CARSON MCCULLERSAnd in addition to this our country was founded on what should have been a great, true principle – the freedom, equality, and rights of each individual. Huh! And what has come of that start?
More Carson McCullers Quotes
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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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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.
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In his face there came to be a brooding peace that is seen most often in the faces of the very sorrowful or the very wise. But still he wandered through the streets of the town, always silent and alone.
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The human heart is a lonely hunter-but the search for us southerners is more anguished.
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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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I’m not explaining this right. What happened was this. There were these beautiful feelings and loose little pleasures inside me. And this woman was something like an assembly line for my soul.
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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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I have more to say than Hemingway, and God knows, I say it better than Faulkner.
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A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lillies of the swamp.
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All we can do is go around telling the truth.
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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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Comparing the Brooklyn that I know with Manhattan is like comparing a comfortable and complacent duenna to her more brilliant and neurotic sister.
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Writing, for me, is a search for God.
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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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Doctors, by God; washing their hands, looking out windows, fiddling with dreadful things while you are stretched out on a table or half undressed on a chair.
CARSON MCCULLERS






