William Faulkner
William Faulkner
William Cuthbert Faulknerwas an American writer and Nobel Prize laureate from Oxford, Mississippi. Faulkner wrote novels, short stories, a play, poetry, essays, and screenplays. He is primarily known for his novels and short stories set in the fictional Yoknapatawpha County, based on Lafayette County, Mississippi, where he spent most of his life...
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth25 September 1897
CityNew Albany, MS
running horse writing
When my horse is running good, I don't stop to give him sugar.
night whiskey scene
The whiskey died away in time and was renewed and died again, but the street ran on. From that night the thousand streets ran as one street, with imperceptible corners and changes of scene ...
loneliness opportunity silence
He thought that it was loneliness which he was trying to escape and not himself. But the street ran on: catlike, one place was the same as another to him. But in none of them could he be quiet. But the street ran on in its moods and phases, always empty: he might have seen himself as in numberless avatars, in silence, doomed with motion, driven by the courage of flagged and spurred despair; by the despair of courage whose opportunities had to be flagged and spurred.
hate men blood
Just when do men that have different blood in them stop hating one another?
surrender seventeen
She is like all the rest of them. Whether they are seventeen or fortyseven, when they finally come to surrender completely, it's going to be in words.
artist done stealing
An artist is completely amoral in that he will rob, beg, borrow, or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done.
believe artist vanity
The good artist believes that nobody is good enough to give him advice. He has supreme vanity. No matter how much he admires the old writer, he wants to beat him.
men men-and-women dies
Love doesn't die; the men and women do.
ears sound wanted
We have all heard what we wanted to hear! Truth that sounds right to our ears!
moving shadow looks
I don't care much for facts, am not much interested in them, you can't stand a fact up, you've got to prop it up, and when you move to one side a little and look at it from that angle, it's not thick enough to cast a shadow in that direction.
world los-angeles plastic
Everything in Los Angeles is too large, too loud and usually banal in concept… The plastic asshole of the world.
writing long littles
I discovered that my own little postage stamp of native soil was worth writing about and that I would never live long enough to exhaust it.
ends feels pencils
I've got to feel the pencil and see the words at the end of the pencil,
men
You men,' she says. 'You durn men.