Quotes about Reflection
I could just remember how my father used to say that the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead a long time.
— William Faulkner
And I will look down and see my murmuring bones and the deep water like wind, like a roof of wind, and after a long time they cannot distinguish even bones upon the lonely and inviolate sand.
— William Faulkner
I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray half light where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who.
— William Faulkner
The scattered tea goes with the leaves and every day a sunset dies.
— William Faulkner
When I have one martini, I feel bigger, wiser, taller. When I have a second, I feel superlative. When I have more, there's no holding me.
— William Faulkner
We shall not kill and maybe next time we even won't.
— William Faulkner
For the Lord aimed for him to do and not to spend too much time thinking, because his brain it's like a piece of machinery: it won't stand a whole lot of racking. It's best when it all runs along the same, doing the day's work and not no one part used no more than needful.
— William Faulkner
It was too late. Maybe yesterday, while I was still a child, but not now. I knew too much, had seen too much, I was a child no longer now; innocence and childhood were forever lost, forever gone from me.
— William Faulkner
Let the past abolish the past when -- and if -- it can substitute something better.
— William Faulkner
I give it (grandfather's watch) to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all your breath trying to conquer it.
— William Faulkner
My daily life is an acknowledgment and expiation of my sin.
— William Faulkner
He is thinking quietly: I should not have got out of the habit of prayer.
— William Faulkner