What's wrong with this world is, it's not finished yet. It is not completed to that point where man can put his final signature to the job and say, "It is finished. We made it, and it works. — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
“The river itself is not a hundred yards across, and pa and Vernon and Vardaman and Dewey Dell are the only things in sight… — William Faulkner Copy Share
The quality an artist must have is objectivity in judging his work, plus the honesty and courage not to kid himself about it. — William Faulkner Copy Share
“Luster returned, wearing a stiff new straw hat with a colored band and carrying a cloth cap. The hat seemed to isolate Luster's skull,… — William Faulkner Copy Share
It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged… — William Faulkner Copy Share
“What matters is at the end of life, when you're about to pass into oblivion, that you've at least scratched 'Kilroy was here,' on… — William Faulkner Copy Share
I've got to feel the pencil and see the words at the end of the pencil, — William Faulkner Copy Share
And sure enough, even waiting will end...if you can just wait long enough. — William Faulkner Copy Share
“I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice,… — William Faulkner Copy Share
Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed. If people all over the… — William Faulkner Copy Share
To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi. — William Faulkner Copy Share
“What modren ideas?” pap said. “I didn’t know there was but one idea about work—until it is done, it ain’t done, and when it… — William Faulkner Copy Share
“It was only as he put his hand on the door that he became aware of complete silence beyond it, a silence which he… — William Faulkner Copy Share
“She has no mother because fatherblood hates with love and pride, but motherblood with hate loves and cohabits.” — William Faulkner Copy Share
“Byron listened quietly, thinking to himself how people everywhere are about the same, but that it did seem that in a small town, where… — William Faulkner Copy Share
“It was too late. Maybe yesterday, while I was still a child, but not now. I knew too much, had seen too much, I… — William Faulkner Copy Share
