William Styron
William Styron
William Clark Styron Jr.was an American novelist and essayist who won major literary awards for his work...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth11 June 1925
CityNewport News, VA
CountryUnited States of America
book reading forever
Most books, like their authors, are born to die; of only a few books can it be said that death has no dominion over them; they live, and their influence lives forever.
insomnia relief each-day
A disruption of the circadian cycle—the metabolic and glandular rhythms that are central to our workaday life—seems to be involved in many, if not most, cases of depression; this is why brutal insomnia so often occurs and is most likely why each day’s pattern of distress exhibits fairly predictable alternating periods of intensity and relief.
thinking critics unfortunate
I think it's unfortunate to have critics for friends.
morning sleep fog
The mornings themselves were becoming bad now as I wandered about lethargic, following my synthetic sleep, but afternoons were still the worst, beginning at about three o'clock, when I'd feel the horror, like some poisonous fog bank roll in upon my mind, forcing me into bed.
painful elusive
Depression...so mysteriously painful and elusive...
men fire slavery
I felt the exultancy of a man just released from slavery and ready to set the universe on fire.
thinking dirt would-be
My life and work have been far from free of blemish, and so I think it would be unpardonable for a biographer not to dish up the dirt.
struggle paris mind
In Paris on a chilling evening late in October of 1985 I first became fully aware that the struggle with the disorder in my mind - a struggle which had engaged me for several months - might have a fatal outcome.
satire
Wickedly funny to read and morally bracing as only good satire can be.
girl dream sweet
I felt myself no longer a husk but a body with some of the body's sweet juices stirring again. I had my first dream in many months, confused but to this day imperishable, with a flute in it somewhere, and a wild goose, and a dancing girl.
class islands literature
Nonfiction writers are second-class citizens, the Ellis Island of literature. We just can't quite get in. And yes, it pisses me off.
mean knives two
Many of the artifacts of my house had become potential devices for my own destruction: the attic rafters (and an outside maple or two) a means to hang myself, the garage a place to inhale carbon monoxide, the bathtub a vessel to receive the flow from my opened arteries. The kitchen knives in their drawers had but one purpose for me.
blessed thinking games
I think that the best of my generation...have reversed the customary rules of the game and have grown more radical as they have gotten older - a disconcerting but healthy sign. To be sure, there are many youngish old fogies around and even the most illustrious of these, William Buckley, is blessed by a puzzling, recondite but undeniable charm, almost as if beneath that patrician exterior an egalitarian was signaling to get out.
book should inspirational-reading
A great book should leave you with many experiences.