Pages

Monday, March 03, 2008

Faulkner

Greeting a Monday morning with an excellent and harrowing Faulkner quotation, from As I Lay Dying

How do our lives ravel out into the no-wind, no-sound, the weary gestures wearily recapitulant: echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-strings: in sunset we fall into furious attitudes, dead gestures of dolls.

207

No comments: