Everything Is Your Fault If You're Any

For What Are We Born If Not To Aid One Another?

Look At Things And Listen And Feel.

Writing Is The Clumsy Attempt To Find Symbols For Wordlessness.

There Were Many Words That You Could Not Stand To Hear And Finally Only The Names Of Places Had Dignity. Certain Numbers Were The Same Way And Certain Dates And These With The Names Of The Places Were All You Could Say And Have Them Mean Anything. Abstract Words Such As Glory, Honor, Courage, Or Hallow Were Obscene Beside The Concrete Names Of Villages, The Numbers Of Roads, The Names Of Rivers, The Numbers Of Regiments And The Dates.

Poor Faulkner. Does He Really Think Big Emotions Come From Big Words?