The writer’s only responsibility is to his art.
WILLIAM FAULKNERThe end of wisdom is to dream high enough to lose the dream in the seeking of it.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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Men have been pacifists for every reason under the sun except to avoid danger and fighting.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The most important thing is insight, that is to be – curious – to wonder, to mull, and to muse why it is that man does what he does.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
There is no such thing as bad whiskey. Some whiskeys just happen to be better than others. But a man shouldn’t fool with booze until he’s fifty; then he’s a damn fool if he doesn’t.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
History is not was, it is.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Our most treasured family heirloom are our sweet family memories.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Who gathers the withered rose?
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The past is never dead, it is not even past.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
One of the saddest things is that the only thing that a man can do for eight hours a day, day after day, is work. You can’t eat…nor make love for eight hours…
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Good ones don’t have time to bother with success or getting rich.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
It’s a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can’t eat for eight hours; he can’t drink for eight hours; he can’t make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Teach yourself by your own mistakes; people learn only by error.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
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…
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All l mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings, only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way.
WILLIAM FAULKNER