It is the writer's privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart. — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and… — 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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
“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 Image
I've got to feel the pencil and see the words at the end of the pencil, — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
And sure enough, even waiting will end...if you can just wait long enough. — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
“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 Image
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 Image
To understand the world, you must first understand a place like Mississippi. — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
“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 Image
“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 Image
