Believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.
WILLIAM FAULKNERWhatever its symbol – cross or crescent or whatever – that symbol is man’s reminder of his duty inside the human race.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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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.
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 -
The ideal woman which is in every man’s mind is evoked by a word or phrase or the shape of her wrist, her hand.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Read, read read. Read everything.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
No man can cause more grief than that one clinging blindly to the vices of his ancestors.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
An artist is a creature driven by demons. He don’t know why they choose him and he’s usually too busy to wonder why. He is completely amoral in that he will rob, borrow, beg, or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
You don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Don’t bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
I only write when I feel the inspiration. Fortunately, inspiration strikes at 10:00 o’clock every day.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
I think that no one individual can look at truth. It blinds you. You look at it and you see one phase of it.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Clocks slay time… time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.
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 -
The best fiction is far more true than any journalism.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Who gathers the withered rose?
WILLIAM FAULKNER