“When I was fifteen, a companion and I, on a dare, went into the mound one day just at sunset. We saw some of those Indians for the first time; we got directions from them and reached the top of the mound just as the sun set. We had camping equiptment with us, but we made no fire. We didn't even make down our beds. We just sat side by side on that mound until it became light enough to find our way back to the road. We didn't talk. When we looked at each other in the gray dawn, our faces were gray, too, quiet, very grave. When we reached town again, we didn't talk either. We just parted and went home and went to bed. That's what we thought, felt, about the mound. We were children, it is true, yet we were descendants of people who read books and who were, or should have been, beyond superstition and impervious to mindless fear.”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
“I can't do nothing. Just put it off. And that don't do no good. I reckon it belong to me. I reckon what I going to get ain't no more than mine.”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
“An old man is never at home save in his own garments: his own old thinking and beliefs; old hands and feet, elbow, knee, shoulder which he knows will fit.”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
“... in an even wilder part of the river's jungle of cane and gum and pin oak, there is an Indian mound. Aboriginal, it rises profoundly and darkly enigmatic, the only elevation of any kind in the wild, flat jungle of river bottom. Even to some of us - children though we were, yet we were descended to literate, town-bred people - it possessed inferences of secret and violent blood, of savage and sudden destruction, as though the yells and hatchets we associated with Indians through the hidden and seceret dime novels which we passed among ourselves were but trivial and momentary manifestations of what dark power still dwelled or lurked there, sinister, a little sardonic, like a dark and nameless beast lightly and lazily slumbering with bloody jaws...”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
“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 is done, it is.”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
“it was as if he had swung outward at the end of a grape vine, over a ravine, and at the top of the swing had been caught in a prolonged instant of mesmerized gravity, weightless in time.”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
“That night they camped, in a grove of oaks and beeches where a spring ran. The nights were still cool and they had a fire against it, of a rail lifted from a nearby fence and cut into lengths—a small fire, neat, niggard almost, a shrewd fire; such fires were his father’s habit and custom always, even in freezing weather. Older, the boy might have remarked this and wondered why not a big one; why should not a man who had not only seen the waste and extravagance of war, but who had in his blood an inherent voracious prodigality with material not his own, have burned everything in sight?”
― William Faulkner, quote from Collected Stories
William Faulkner
Born place: in New Albany, Mississippi, The United States
Born date September 25, 1897
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“Entre la última cucharada de arroz con leche -poca canela, una lástima- y los besos antes de subir a acostarse, llamó la campanilla en la pieza del teléfono... ”
― Julio Cortázar, quote from Bestiario
“Okay. Ground rules,” I said, and locked gazes with Eli. “I pee alone and I shower alone. Some things need to remain a mystery, and those are two I firmly believe in.”
― Elle Jasper, quote from Afterlight
“Self-remembrance is vital to be successful esoterically. It is only in those moments when you remember to do it that an inner work actually takes place. If you consider how often this happens and for how many moments through the day, then you will get some idea of how much you are actually working towards self-knowledge.”
― Belzebuub, quote from The Peace of the Spirit Within: A Guide to Transform Your Life
“For me," he said. It came out as a cross between a choked growl and a whimpher. It was shocked, and it was possessive. Full of pain, and laced with joy. "You were made for me.”
― Jus Accardo, quote from Touch
“My recommendation is to keep up the good work. I’m changing your title to senior executive assistant, and giving you a three percent raise effective next payday. Congratulations.”
Wow, three percent. I could move up that early retirement plan to age seventy-five now, instead of eighty. Lucky me.
Thank you,” I said. “That’s very generous.”
You’re quite welcome.” Ms. Saunders nodded and grabbed a gold-plated letter opener to begin attacking her stack of mail.
I turned to leave. Didn’t want to outstay my welcome.
Damn it!” she exclaimed, and I turned back around. She winced and nodded at the letter opener that she’d dropped to her desktop. “Damn thing slipped. I’m probably going to need stitches now. Can you be a dear and fetch the first-aid kit for me?”
She held her left index finger and frowned at the steady flow of blood oozing out. A few small drops of red splashed onto the other letters spread out on the desk.
I felt woozy. And suddenly dizzy.
I blinked.
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer standing by the door about to leave. I was crouched down next to Ms. Saunders’s imported black leather chair, grasping her wrist tightly…… and sucking noisily on her fingertip.
I shrieked and let go of her, staggering backward. I grabbed at her desk to keep from falling, but I dropped on my butt, anyhow, taking most of the contents of the top of her desk with me.
She held her injured finger far away from her and stared at me, wide-eyed, with a mixture of shock and disgust.
I scrambled to my feet and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
What in the holy hell just happened?
I… I… uh… I’m so sorry,” I managed. “I don’t know what… I wouldn’t normally do something… I just…”
Ms. Saunders pulled her hand close to her chest, perhaps to protect it from further abuse.
Get out,” she said quietly.
Yeah, I’ll get back to work. Again, I’m so, so sorry. Would you like me to bring you a cup of coffee?”
No, not to your desk,” she said evenly, but her volume increased with every word. “Get out of here, you freak. I don’t care what you’ve heard, I’m not into women. You’re fired. Now get out of here before I call security.”
But… my job review—”
Get out!” she yelled.”
― Michelle Rowen, quote from Bitten & Smitten
Sanctum
Palace of Stone
Eyes of Silver, Eyes...
The Ladies of Grace...
The Broken Eye
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