Don’t be ‘a writer’. Be writing.
WILLIAM FAULKNERSomeone else looks at it and sees a slightly awry phase of it. But taken all together, the truth is in what they saw though nobody saw the truth intact.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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A gentleman accepts the responsibility of his actions and bears the burden of their consequences.
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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.
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A man. All men. He will pass up a hundred chances to do good for one chance to meddle where meddling is not wanted. He will overlook and fail to see chances, opportunities, for riches and fame and welldoing, and even sometimes for evil. But he won’t fail to see a chance to meddle.
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The past is never dead, it is not even past.
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There are some things for which three words are three too many, and three thousand words that many words too less.
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Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist’s way of scribbling “Kilroy was here” on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.
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Let the writer take up surgery or bricklaying if he is interested in technique. There is no mechanical way to get the writing done, no shortcut.
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To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi.
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Don’t bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.
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Talk, talk, talk: the utter and heartbreaking stupidity of words.
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Facts and truth really don’t have much to do with each other.
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A writer is congenitally unable to tell the truth and that is why we call what he writes fiction.
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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.
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Tomorrow night is nothing but one long sleepless wrestle with yesterday’s omissions and regrets.
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If there is a God what the hell is He for?
WILLIAM FAULKNER