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“Memory believes before knowing remembers.[Light in August]”
William Faulkner“Memory believes before knowing remembers.[Light in August]”
William Faulkner, Light in August“But something held him, as the fatalist can always be held: by curiosity, pessimism, by sheer inertia.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“Here I am I am tired I am tired of running of having to carry my life like it was a basket of eggs”
William Faulkner, Light in August“And I reckon them that are good must suffer for it the same as them that are bad.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“And so sometimes I would think how the devil had conquered God.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“I mind how I said to you once that there is a price for being good the same as for being bad; a cost to pay. And it's the good men that cant deny the bill when it comes around. They cant deny it for the reason that there aint any way to make them pay it, like a honest man that gambles. The bad men can deny it; that's why dont anybody expect them to pay on sight or any other time. But the good cant. Maybe it takes longer to pay for being good than for being bad.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“It is the man who all his life has been self-convicted of veracity whose lies find quickest credence.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“It is a happy faculty of the mind to slough that which conscience refuses to assimilate.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“It is just dawn, daylight: that gray and lonely suspension filled with the peaceful and tentative waking of birds. The air, inbreathed, is like spring water. He breathes deep and slow, feeling with each breath himself diffuse in the natural grayness, becoming one with loneliness and quiet that has never known fury or despair. "That was all I wanted," he thinks, in a quiet and slow amazement. "That was all, for thirty years. That didn't seem to be a whole lot to ask in thirty years.”
William Faulkner, Light in August“Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.”
William Faulkner, Light in August