When grown people speak of the innocence of children, they dont really know what they mean. Pressed, they will go a step further and say, Well, ignor… - William Faulkner

When grown people speak of the innocence of children, they don’t really know what they mean.

An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn't know why they choose him and he's usually too busy to wonder why.

They say love dies between two people. That’s wrong. It doesn’t die. It just leaves you, goes away, if you aren’t good enough, worthy enough. It doesn’t die; you’re the the one that dies. It’s like the ocean: if you’re no good, if you begin to make a bad smell in it, it just spews you up somewhere to die. You die anyway, but I had rather drown in the ocean than be urped up onto a strip of dead beach and be dried away by the sun into a little foul smear with no name to it, just this was for an epitaph

I give it 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. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought.