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William Faulkner

She smelled like trees. In the corner it was dark, but I could see the window. I squatted there, holding the slipper. I couldn’t see it but my hands saw it, and I could hear it getting night, and my hands saw the slipper but I couldn’t see myself, but my hands could see the… Continue reading William Faulkner

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Excerpt · Fiction · Novel · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Southern Gothic · Southern Literature · Southern Renaissance · Stream of Consciousness

William Faulkner

I said You don’t know what worry is. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know whether I am worrying or not. Whether I can or not. I don’t know whether I can cry or not. I don’t know whether I have tried to or not. I feel like a wet seed wild in… Continue reading William Faulkner

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Truman Capote

The brain may take advice, but not the heart, and love, having no geography, knows no boundaries: weight and sink it deep, no matter, it will rise and find the surface: and why not? any love is natural and beautiful that lies within a person’s nature; only hypocrites would hold a man responsible for what… Continue reading Truman Capote

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Frank Stanford

Each dawn love is a captain Without a ship. The only instrumentation The sad and imaginary Sound of his voice, love with its own Words for music, the low light Of a fairly good star. — Frank Stanford, from “With the Approach of the Oak the Axeman Quakes,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank… Continue reading Frank Stanford

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