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I made it on the bevel.
1. There is more surface for the nails to grip.
2. There is twice the gripping-surface to each seam.
3. The water will have to seep into it on a slant. Water moves easiest up
and down or straight across.
4. In a house people are upright two thirds of the time. So the seams and
joints are made up-and-down. Because the stress is up-and-down.
5. In a bed where people lie down all the time, the joints and seams are
made sideways, because the stress is sideways.
6. Except.
7. A body is not square like a crosstie.
8. Animal magnetism.
9. The animal magnetism of a dead body makes the stress come slanting, so
the seams and joints of a coffin are made on the bevel.
10. You can see by an old grave that the earth sinks down on the bevel.
11. While in a natural hole it sinks by the center, the stress being up-and-
down.
12. So I made it on the bevel.
13. It makes a neater job.
William Cuthbert Faulkner (September 25, 1897 – July 6, 1962) was an American novelist and short story writer whose works feature his native state of Mississippi. He was regarded as one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century and was awarded the 1949 Nobel Prize for Literature.
Biography information from Wikiquote
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Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion, against injustice and lying and greed. If you, not just you in this room tonight, but in all the thousands of other rooms like this one about the world today and tomorrow and next week, will do this … as individuals, men and women, you will change the earth; in one generation all the Napoleons and Hitlers and Caesars and Mussolinis and Stalins and all the other tyrants who want power and aggrandizement, and the simple politicians and time-servers who themselves are merely baffled or ignorant or afraid, who have used, or are using, or hope to use, man’s fear and greed for man’s enslavement, will have vanished from the face of it.
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Está oscuro. Oigo el bosque, el silencio: los conozco bien. Pero ningún sonido vivo; ni siquiera a él. Era como si la oscuridad lo sacara de su integridad convirtiéndose en una dispersión inconexa de elementos: mucosidades y pataleos, olor a carne tibia y pelo apestando a amoniaco; una ilusión de un conjunto coordinado de piel con manchas y huesos poderosos dentro de la cual, disperso y secreto y familiar, hay un ser diferente de mi ser. Le veo disolverse — las patas, un ojo muy abierto, manchas alegres como llamas frías — y flotar en la oscuridad en solución que se desvanece; todo uno y sin embargo ninguno; todos los dos pero ninguno. Veo con el oído que se enrosca hacia él, le acaricia, le da su forma definitiva: cernejas, lomo, brazuelo y cabeza. Olor y sonido. No estoy asustado.