Thursday, March 14, 2013

"He would stand in the kitchen door and look out across the dusk and see, perhaps with foreboding and premonition, the savage and lonely street which he had chosen of his own will, waiting for him, thinking This is not my life. I don’t belong here


He was doomed to conceal always something from the women who surrounded him."

Light in August (1932)
William Faulkner

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