More Quotes by William Faulkner
How often have I lain beneath rain on a strange roof, thinking of home.
The past is never dead. It's not even past.
Perhaps they were right putting love into books. Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.
We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.
Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.
Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.
The saddest thing about love, Joe, is that not only the love cannot last forever, but even the heartbreak is soon forgotten.
The next time you try to seduce anyone, don't do it with talk, with words. Women know more about words than men ever will. And they know how little they can ever possibly mean.
Don't be 'a writer'. Be writing.
Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.
