Ernest Gaines Quotes

I Knew I Wanted To Be A Writer And I Knew If I Had A Wife And Family, I Would Neglect Something, And I Was Afraid It Wouldn't Be The Writing.

We Looked At Each Other, And I Could See In Those Big Reddened Eyes That He Was Not Going To Scream. He Was Full Of Anger - And Who Could Blame Him? - But He Was No Fool. He Needed Me, And He Wanted Me Here, If Only To Insult Me.

And I Thought To Myself, What Am I Doing? Am I Reaching Them At All? They Are Acting Exactly As The Old Men Did Earlier. They Are Fifty Years Younger, Maybe More, But Doing The Same Thing Those Old Men Did Who Never Attended School A Day In Their Lives. Is It Just A Vicious Circle? Am I Doing Anything?

I Suppose I Started Writing Seriously At 16 Years Old. I Thought I Wrote A Novel At 16 And Sent It To New York! They Sent It Back Because It Wasn't Novel.

"you Going Back," She Said. "you Ain't Going To Run Away From This, Grant."

"what For?" I Said. "what For, Tante Lou? He Treated Me The Same Way He Treated Her. He Wants Me To Feel Guilty, Just As He Wants Her To Feel Guilty. Well, I'm Not Feeling Guilty, Tante Lou. I Didn't Put Him There. I Do Everything I Know How To Do To Keep People Like Him From Going There. He's Not Going To Make Me Feel Guilty."

The Mark Of Fear Is Not Easily Removed.

Now, About That Mulatto Teacher And Me. There Was No Love There For Each Other. There Was Not Even Respect. We Were Enemies If Anything. He Hated Me, And I Knew It, And He Knew I Knew It. I Didn't Like Him, But I Needed Him, Needed Him To Tell Me Something That None Of The Others Could Or Would.

I Write With As Much Objectivity As I Can.

...my Heart May Have Been In It But My Soul Was Not.

I Still Don't Even Know If The Sheriff Will Let Me See Him. And Suppose He Did; What Then? What Do I Say To Him? Do I Know What A Man Is? Do I Know How A Man Is Supposed To Die? I'm Still Trying To Find Out How A Man Should Live. Am I Supposed To Tell Someone How To Die Who Has Never Lived?

Don't Tell Me To Believe. Don't Tell Me To Believe In The Same God Or Laws That Men Believe In Who Commit These Murders. Don't Tell Me To Believe That God Can Bless This Country And That Men Are Judged By Their Peers. Who Among His Peers Judged Him? Was I There? Was The Minister There? Was Harry Williams There? Was Farrell Jarreau? Was My Aunt? Was Vivian? No, His Peers Did Not Judge Him, And I Will Not Believe.