William Faulkner citáty

page 7

„Keď sa nabudúce pokúsite niekoho zviesť, nerobte to slovami. Ženy vedia o slovách viac ako muži. A vedia, ako málo môžu niekedy znamenať.“

„Nemôžete plávať k novým obzorom, kým nenaberiete odvahu stratiť zo zreteľa pobrežie.“

„Ak by som si mohol vybrať medzi bolestivou skúsenosťou a ničím, vybral by som si bolesť.“

„Možno mali pravdu, keď do kníh vkladali lásku. Možno nemohla žiť nikde inde.“

„Pri písaní musíte zabiť všetkých svojich miláčikov.“

„Nie je to ani tak o tom, čo chlap robí, ale o tom, ako sa na neho väčšina ľudí pozerá, keď to robí.“

„Pokiaľ chceme získať ľudí, musíme ich považovať za takých, za akých sa sami považujú.“

„Čas je bezohľadný sochár ľudí.“

„Dnešní ľudia nie sú horší ako predtým. Iba spravodajstvo o ich skutkoch sa stalo dôkladnejším.“

„Ľudia majú deti, aby prostredníctvom nich napravili chyby, ktoré narobili.“

„Pretože žiadna bitka ešte nebola vyhratá, povedal. Dokonca sa ani nebojuje. Bojisko človeku ukáže len jeho vlastné bláznovstvo a zúfalstvo a víťazstvo je ilúziou filozofov a bláznov.“

„Nič tak neoslabuje. charakter človeka ako myšlienka, že nájde životné šťastie v niečom inom ako vo svojej vlastnej práci.“

„Mnohí sa stanú odvážnymi iba vtedy, keď nemajú iné východisko.“

„Som presvedčený, že človek nielen pretrvá, ale bude triumfovať. Je nesmrteľný, nie preto, že on jediný zo všetkých stvorení má nevyčerpateľný hlas, ale preto lebo má dušu, ducha schopného súcitu, obetí a vytrvalosti.“

„Hodinky vraždia čas. Čas je mŕtvy pokiaľ sa odpočítava malými kolieskami; len keď sa hodinky zastavia, čas ožije.“

„Človek len nevydrží; on prevládne… pretože má dušu. Ducha schopného súcitu a obetovania a výdrže.“

„Ernest Hemingway nikdy nepoužil slovo, kvôli ktorému by čitateľ musel listovať v slovníku.“

„Mark Twain bol prvým skutočným americkým spisovateľom.“

„Cieľom múdrosti je snívať dosť vysoko, aby sa sen stratil pri jej hľadaní.“

„Inteligencia je schopnosť akceptovať vlastné prostredie.“

„Jedna z najsmutnejších vecí je, že jediná vec, ktorú človek dokáže robiť osem hodín denne, deň za dňom, je práca.“

„Keď môj kôň dobre beží, nezastavím sa, aby som mu dal cukor.“

„Minulosť nikdy nie je mŕtva, ani sa nepominula.“

„Mnohí ľudia sú len preto takí prívetiví, lebo sa neodvážia byť iní.“

„Mnohí sa správajú akoby boli hlúpi, aby zatajili, že sú naozaj hlúpi.“

„Nedeje sa nič nového. Sú to vždy tie isté staré príbehy, ktoré prežívajú vždy noví ľudia.“

„Neexistuje zlá whisky. Niektoré whisky sú iba náhodou lepšie ako iné. Ale muž by sa nemal blázniť za pijatikou pokiaľ nemá päťdesiat, ale potom je veľký blázon, ak to nerobí.“

„Nič nemôže vyzerať tak osamelo ako vysoký muž, ktorý kráča po prázdnej ulici.“

„Sláva je ako žena - bude ti verná, keď s ňou budeš zaobchádzať s veľkou dávkou ľahostajnosti.“

„Smutné na láske je nielen to, že netrvá večne, ale že aj rozčarovanie, ktoré prináša, rýchle pominie.“

„Spása sveta je v utrpení človeka.“

„Spisovateľ je slávny až vtedy, keď ho viac citujú, než čítajú.“

„To, čo sa označuje ako slepota osudu, je v skutočnosti iba krátkozrakosť ľudí.“

„Tragédiou našej doby je všeobecný strach ovládajúci celý svet.“

„Umelec nemá čas nato, aby bral ohľad na kritiky. Iba nádejní spisovatelia čítajú recenzie.“

„Veci, na ktorých v živote naozaj záleží, si nemožno kúpiť.“

„Vždy, keď sa hovorí o láske, nemožno nepociťovať istú ľútosť nad tým, že sme z nej sami tak málo vyťažili.“

„Nesmieme byť slobodní, pretože požadujeme slobodu, ale preto, že ju praktizujeme.“

„A dokonca aj klamár môže byť donútený strachom k tomu, aby povedal pravdu. Rovnako, ako aj čestného človeka môžu mučením donútiť k tomu, aby klamal.“

„Ak je príbeh vo vnútri, musí vyjsť von.“

„Všetko, čo vidíte je v tomto momente: zajtra už začalo včera a včera sa neskončí až do zajtrajška.“

„Som zlý a pôjdem do pekla a je mi to jedno. Radšej budem v pekle ako kdekoľvek, kde si ty.“

„Cítim sa ako mokré semeno v horúcej čiernej zemi.“

„Nebuď "spisovateľ". Buď písaním.“

„Koľkokrát som ležal v daždi na cudzej streche a myslel na domov.“

“He recognised its voice. It was the young hound which even a year ago had had no judgment and which, by the lights of the other hounds anyway, still had none. Maybe that’s what courage is, he thought.”

“He was only ten. It seemed to him that he could see them, the two of them, shadowy in the limbo from which time emerged and became time: the old bear absolved of mortality and himself who shared a little of it. Because he recognised now what he had smelled in the huddled dogs and tasted in his own saliva, recognised fear as a boy, a youth recognises the existence of love and passion and experience which is his heritage but not yet his patrimony, from entering by chance the presence of perhaps even merely the bedroom of a woman who has loved and been loved by many men.”

“She accepted that—not reconciled: accepted-- as though there is a breathing-point in outrage where you can accept it almost with gratitude since you can say to yourself, Thank God that is all; at least I know it all.”

“Who is he who will affirm that there must be a web of flesh and bone to hold the shape of love?”

“You see, if I could believe that I shall see and touch him again, I shall not have lost him. And if I have not lost him, I shall never have had a son. Because I am I through bereavement and because of it. I do not know what I was nor what I shall be. But because of death, I know that I am. And that is all the immortality of which intellect is capable and flesh should desire. Anything else is for peasants, clods, who could never have loved a son well enough to have lost him.”

“We never thought, sitting in my office on those afternoons, discussing Voltaire and Ingersoll, that we would ever be brought to this, did we?You, the atheist whom the mere sight of a church spire on the sky could enrage; and I who have never been able to divorce myself from reason enough even to accept your pleasant and labor-saving theory of nihilism.”

“Man knows so little about his fellows. In his eyes all men or women act upon what he believes would motivate him if he were mad enough to do what the other man or woman is doing.”

“Darl is our brother, our brother Darl. Our brother Darl in a cage in Jackson where, his grimed hands lying lightly in the quiet interstices, looking out he foams.”

“I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body; now I know it to be merely a function of the mind — and that of the minds who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it is the end; the fundamentalists, the beginning; when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or a town.”

“Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say.”

“It is my ambition to be, as a private individual, abolished and voided from history, leaving it markless, no refuse save the printed books; I wish I had enough sense to see ahead thirty years ago, and like some of the Elizabethans, not signed them. It is my aim, and every effort bent, that the sum and history of my life, which in the same sentence is my obit and epitaph too, shall be them both: He made the books and he died.”

“No man is himself, he is the sum of his past. There is no such thing really as was because the past is. It is a part of every man, every woman, and every moment.”

“Dont you see?”

“I am beginning to see the first sign of my increasing age: I dont like to know that my orders have been disobeyed, even when I knew when I gave them that they would be.”

“I told you once how I believe it isn't love that dies, it's the man and the woman, something in the man and the woman that dies, doesn't deserve the chance any more to love.”

“… the second time I ever saw you I learned what I had read in books but I had never actually believed: that love and suffering are the same thing and that the sum of love is what you have to pay for it and any time you get it cheap you have cheated yourself.”

“Now I want you to tell me just one thing more. Why do you hate the South?”

“Happens is never once.”

“It is not proof that I sought. I, of all men, know that proof is but a fallacy invented by man to justify to himself and his fellows his own crass lust and folly.”

“...ingenuity was apparently given man in order that he may supply himself in crisis with shapes and sounds with which to guard himself from truth.”

“Poor man. Poor mankind.”

“For the holy are susceptible too to evil, even as you and I, signori; they too are helpless before sin without God's aid… and the holy can be fooled by sin as quickly as you or I, signori. Quicker, because they are holy.”

“Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It's like it aint so much what a fellow does, but it's the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it.”

“Life was created in the valleys. It blew up onto the hills on the old terrors, the old lusts, the old despairs. That's why you must walk up the hills so you can ride down.”

“Sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words.”

“He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn't need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear.”

“Women do have an affinity for evil, for believing that no woman is to be trusted, but that some men are too innocent to protect themselves.”

“When people act like niggers, no matter who they are, the only thing to do is treat them like a nigger.”

“Why that’s a hundred miles away. That’s a long way to go just to eat.”