Who gathers the withered rose?
WILLIAM FAULKNERSome things you must always be unable to bear. Some things you must never stop refusing to bear. Injustice and outrage and dishonor and shame.
More William Faulkner Quotes
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Remember, all Tolstoy ever said to describe Anna Karenina was that she was beautiful and could see in the dark like a cat. Every man has a different idea of what’s beautiful, and it’s best to take the gesture, the shadow of the branch, and let the mind create the tree.
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 -
Believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The end of wisdom is to dream high enough to lose the dream in the seeking of it.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
A mule will labor ten years willingly and patiently for you, for the privilege of kicking you once.
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 -
Your illusions are a part of you like your bones and flesh and memory.
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.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Don’t bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.
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Pouring out liquor is like burning books.
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 -
Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
The past is never dead, it is not even past.
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
Civilization begins with distillation
WILLIAM FAULKNER -
No man can cause more grief than that one clinging blindly to the vices of his ancestors.
WILLIAM FAULKNER