Carson McCullers, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter Quotes
I got to wear blinders all the time so I won't think sideways or in the past.
I am not meant to be alone and without you who understands.
The most fatal thing a man can do is try to stand alone.
The people dreamed and fought and slept as much as ever. And by habit they shortened their thoughts so that they would not wander out into the darkness beyond tomorrow.
That was the best of all. To speak the truth and be attended.
The job wouldn't be just put the summer, but for a long time, as long as she could see ahead. Once they were used to the money coming in it would be impossible to do without again.
It wasn't like she was lonely and in fact – she had understood it all in every way except with her brain. Now she knew that she knew.
Because of the insolence of all the white race he was afraid to lose his dignity in friendliness.
There was another thing bigger than the tiredness – and this was the strong crew purpose.
The old bitterness came up in him and he did not have time to cogitate and push it down.
Wonderful music like this was the worst hurt there could be. The whole world was the symphony, and there was not enough of her to listen.
A person can't pick up they children and just squeeze them to which-a-way they wants them to be.
Doctor Copeland belt old evil anger in him. The words rose inchoately to his throat and he could not speak them. They would listen to the old man. Yet to word the reason they will not attend.
Because in some men, it is in them to give up everything personal at some time, before it ferments and poisons - throw it to some human being or some human idea.
Each day was very much like any other day, because they were alone so much that nothing ever disturbed them.
In one of their quarrels, they had begun calling each other Mister. and Misses., and since then they had never made it up enough to change it.
He did not wholly understand the intricate play of ideas and the complex phrases, but as he read he sensed a strong, who purpose behind the words and he felt that he almost understood.
It was like that kid had been born knowing how to read. He was only in the second grade but he loved to read stories by himself - and he never asked anybody else to read to him.
The eyes of his friend were moist and dark, and in them he saw the little rectangled pictures of himself that he had watched a thousand times.
What did he understand? Nothing. Where was he headed? Nowhere. What did he want? To know. What? A meaning. Why? A riddle.