Carson McCullers
Carson McCullers
Carson McCullerswas an American novelist, short story writer, playwright, essayist, and poet. Her first novel, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, explores the spiritual isolation of misfits and outcasts in a small town of the U.S. South. Her other novels have similar themes and most are set in the deep South...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth19 February 1917
CityColumbus, GA
CountryUnited States of America
manhattan brooklyn brilliant
Comparing the Brooklyn that I know with Manhattan is like comparing a comfortable and complacent duenna to her more brilliant and neurotic sister.
cat climbing tree
I was like a cat always climbing the wrong tree.
speak speak-the-truth
That was the best of all. To speak the truth and be attended.
world certainty
The world is certainty a sudden place.
climbing hardest
Coming down was the hardest part of any climbing.
writing doe tennessee
This fear is one of the horrors of an author's life. Where does work come from? What chance, what small episode will start the chain of creation? I once wrote a story about a writer who could not write anymore, and my friend Tennessee Williams said, 'How could you dare write that story, it's the most frightening work I have ever read.' I was pretty well sunk while I was writing it.
doe persons knows
When a person knows and can't make the others understand, what does he do?
years wreckage columns
His own life seemed so solitary, a fragile column supporting nothing amidst the wreckage of the years.
sky light listening
She was afraid of these things that made her suddenly wonder who she was, and what she was going to be in the world, and why she was standing at that minute, seeing a light, or listening, or staring up into the sky: alone.
journey form outlines
There was hope in him, and soon perhaps the outline of his journey would take form.
love struggle endless-time
For in a swift radiance of illumination he saw a glimpse of human struggle and valor. Of the endless fluid passage of the humanity through endless time. And of those who labor and of those who - one word- love. His soul expanded. But for a moment only. For in him, he felt a warning, a shaft of terror.
home homesick should
I do not have any home. So why should I be homesick?
wise faces towns
In his face there came to be a brooding peace that is seen most often in the faces of the very sorrowful or the very wise. But still he wandered through the streets of the town, always silent and alone.
pieces littles crystals
Sometimes this fellow's music was like little colored pieces of crystal candy, and other times it was the softest, saddest thing she had ever imagined about.