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Civilization begins with distillation

William Faulkner

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Begin Civilization Distillation One Liner

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It’s not when you realize that nothing can help you — religion, pride, anything — it’s when you realize that you don’t need any aid.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Aid Anything Help Need Nothing Pride Religion When Realize
No matter how young you are or how old you have got. Not for kudos and not for cash: your picture in the paper nor money in the back either. Just refuse to bear them.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Back Bear Cash Either Got Kidos Matter Money Paper Picture Refuse Young
A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops. On my desk, I have a work station….
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Bus Desk Station Stop Train Work
Who gathers the withered rose?
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Gather Rose Withered
An artist is a creature driven by demons. He don’t know why they choose him and he’s usually too busy to wonder why. He is completely amoral in that he will rob, borrow, beg, or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Artist Beg Choose Creature Demon Done Driven Everybody Steal Wonder Work
Truth; that long clean clear simple undeniable unchallengeable straight and shining line, on one side of which black is black and on the other white is white, has now become an angle, a point of view.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Angel Black Clean Line Long Shine Simple Straight Truth Unchallengable Underibale View White
I think now that the young man must possess or teach himself, training himself, in infinite patience, which is to try and to try until it comes right.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Come Himself Infinite Man Must Patience Posses Right Self Teach Think Training Try Young
Whatever its symbol – cross or crescent or whatever – that symbol is man’s reminder of his duty inside the human race.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Cross Duty Human Inside Race Reminder Scent Symbol Whatever
I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Beyond Broken Butterfly Could Curve Dusk Last Light Like Mirror Piece River Saw Smell Supinem Tranquil Tideflat Trembling Upon
The past is never dead. It’s not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence, of history and eternity.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Before Born Consequence Dead Desire Environment Eternity Heredity History Labor never Past Spun Web
So, never be afraid. Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion, against injustice and lying and greed.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Afraid Against Compassion Greed Honesty Injustice Lie never Raise Truth Voice
The salvation of the world is in man’s suffering.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Man Salvation Suffer World
Your illusions are a part of you like your bones and flesh and memory.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Bone Flesh Illusion Like Memory Part
No man can cause more grief than that one clinging blindly to the vices of his ancestors.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Ancestor Blindly Cling Grief Man More No One Value Vice
Clocks slay time… time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Being Click Clock Come Dead Life Little Long Stay Stop Time Wheel
For every Southern boy fourteen years old, not once but whenever he wants it, there is the instant when it’s still not yet two o’clock on that July afternoon in 1863…
WILLIAM FAULKNER

Afternoon Boy Clock Every Fourteen Instant July Once Southern Still Two Want Year Yet

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