Faulkner Is A Writer Who Has Had

More Than Mother And Son, They Were Accomplices In Solitude.

For You Was I Born, For You Do I Have Life, For You Will I Die, For You Am I Now Dying.

Your First Realization When You Become An Important Person Is That All Day And All Night, Whatever The Circumstances, People Want To Hear You Talk About Yourself.

A Process Of Aging Had Taken Place In Him That Was So Rapid And Critical That Soon He Was Being Treated As One Of Those Useless Great-grandfathers Who Wander About The Bedroom Like Shades, Dragging Their Feet, Remembering Better Times Aloud, And Whom No One Bother About Or Remembers Really Until The Morning They Find Them Dead In Their Bed.

He Is Ugly And Sad, But He Is All Love.