William Faulkner

. . . no battle is ever won . . . they are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and Victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools.

"Gettysburg. . . . You cant understand it. You would have to be born there."

"Why do you hate the South? I dont hate it. . . . I dont hate it. . . . I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it! "

Too much happens. . . . Man performs, engenders, so much more than he can or should have to bear. That's how he finds that he can bear anything. . . . That's what's so terrible.

I believe that man not merely endure: he will prevail.

Tomorrow night is nothing but one long sleepless wrestle with yesterday's omissions and regrets.

To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality because of race or color, is like living in Alaska and being against snow.

The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.