Tried years back to read Faulkner. Never really worked for me. Now, going back to it, with a different mind at a different place in my life and the images flood around me, pushing my reading forward. His language moves with flooding streams and broke down wagons and rage and folly and destruction. La verdad, lo puedo leer sólo después de este verano en Tijuana. Como que me abrió de alguna manera muy suave. Bueno:
From As I Lay Dying:
On salvation:
People to whom sin is just a matter of words, to them salvation is just words too.
On the limits of words:
Sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who have never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words.
On the raveling out of our lives:
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.
2 comentarios:
i share your in marveling. faulkner is a gorgeous writer, one of my absolute favorites. if you ever want to talk about it, i'm all ears.
sounds like we need to get together. jp
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