Yes. A man will talk about how he’d like to escape from living folks. But it’s the dead folks that do him the damage. It’s the dead ones that lay quiet in one place and dont try to hold him, that he cant escape from.
WILLIAM FAULKNERThe past is never dead, it is not even past.
More William Faulkner Quotes
-
-
You don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The salvation of the world is in man’s suffering.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
He must train himself in ruthless intolerance-that is to throw away anything that is false no matter how much he might love that page or that paragraph.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality because of race or color is like living in Alaska and being against snow.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
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 -
Wonder. Go on and wonder.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
But I will be damned if I propose to be at the beck and call of every itinerant scoundrel who has two cents to invest in a postage stamp. This, sir, is my resignation.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Haunted by wrong turns and roads not taken, we pursue images perceived as new but whose providence dates to the dim dramas of childhood, which are themselves but ripples of consequence echoing down the generations.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
All of us failed to match our dreams of perfection. So I rate us on the base of our splendid failure to do the impossible.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Facts and truth really don’t have much to do with each other.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Like a fellow running from or toward a gun ain’t got time to worry whether the word for what he is doing is courage or cowardice.
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…
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
If there is a God what the hell is He for?
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The writer’s only responsibility is to his art.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The good artist believes that nobody is good enough to give him advice. He has supreme vanity. No matter how much he admires the old writer, he wants to beat him.
WILLIAM FAULKNER






