Writing a novel is a terrible experience, during which the hair often falls out and the teeth decay. I’m always irritated by people who imply that writing fiction is an escape from reality. It is a plunge into reality and it’s very shocking to the system. — Flannery O’Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose. (Farrar,… Continue reading Flannery O’Connor
My sadness waves back like the heads of grain in another’s fields, it cannot be combined, and no one is hungry. — Frank Stanford, from “Frank Stanford Calls Back to the Owl Who Lives a Hundred Years,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)
…I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire…I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even… Continue reading William Faulkner
Life steals everything. — Katherine Hepburn [Violet Venable] Suddenly, Last Summer (1959) Directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Based on the play of the same name written by Tennessee Williams. (Dramatists Play Service, Inc., January 1998) Originally published January 1st 1958.
There are no starfish in the sky tonight, But there is one below your belly, And there are cold evenings in your eyes. —Frank Stanford, from “Amaranth,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)
I have but one rift in the darkness, that is that I have injured no one save myself by my folly, and that the extent of that folly you will never learn. — William Faulkner, Sanctuary (Vintage, 1931)
You can listen to the rain, you can lie Yourself back into bodies you never Touched, — Frank Stanford, from “Only One Set in the Singer’s Eyes,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)