They say that it is the practiced liar who can deceive. But so often the practiced and chronic liar deceives only himself; it is the man who all his life has been selfconvicted of veracity whose lies find quickest credence.
WILLIAM FAULKNERNo man can cause more grief than that one clinging blindly to the vices of his ancestors.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
A mule will labor ten years willingly and patiently for you, for the privilege of kicking you once.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Fear is the most damnable, damaging thing to human personality in the whole world.
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 -
If a story is in you, it has to come out.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Artists do; I don’t mean you need to live in a rat hole or gutter, but you have to learn fortitude, endurance. Only vegetables are happy.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Life is a process of preparing to be dead for a long time.
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 -
If happy I can be I will, if suffer I must I can.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
If people all over the world…would do this, it would change the earth.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
A writer is congenitally unable to tell the truth and that is why we call what he writes fiction.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Always dream and shoot higher than you know you can do. Don’t bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.
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