A gentleman accepts the responsibility of his actions and bears the burden of their consequences.
WILLIAM FAULKNERPeople to whom sin is just a matter of words, to them salvation is just words too.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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Believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.
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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 -
The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Hollywood is a place where a man can get stabbed in the back while climbing a ladder.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: it must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire…
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The last sound on the worthless earth will be two human beings trying to launch a homemade spaceship and already quarreling about where they are going next.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Now she hates me. I have taught her that, at least.
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 -
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.
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If we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don’t deserve to survive, and probably won’t.
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The writer’s only responsibility is to his art.
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The books I read are the ones I knew and loved when I was a young man and to which I return as you do to old friends.
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