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1 " Like any good optimist, I don’t expect the worst to happen. Only, like any optimist worth his salt, I like to go and look as soon as possible afterward jest in case it did. "
― William Faulkner , The Mansion
2 " Man must have light. He must live in the fierce full constant glare of light, where all shadow will be defined and sharp and unique and personal: the shadow of his own singular rectitude or baseness. All human evils have to come out of obscurity and darkness, where there is nothing to dog man constantly with the shape of his own deformity. "
3 " … they are beating their brains out against one of the foundation rocks of our national character itself. Which is the premise that politics and political office are not and never have been the method and means by which we can govern ourselves in peace and dignity and honor and security, but instead are our national refuge for our incompetents who have failed at every other occupation by means of which they might make a living for themselves and their families; and whom as a result we would have to feed and clothe and shelter out of our own private purses and means. "
4 " … curiosity is another of the mistresses whose slaves decline no sacrifice. "
5 " But again I dont know. Maybe it didn’t take even three years of freedom, immunity from it to learn that perhaps the entire dilemma of man’s condition is because of the ceaseless gabble with which he has surrounded himself, enclosed himself, insulated himself from the penalties of his own folly, which otherwise—the penalties, the simple red ink—might have enabled him by now to have made his condition solvent, workable, successful. "
6 " De manera que cuando al tercer día, esposado de nuevo al carcelero, se dio cuenta de que había cruzado la plaza sin mirar a uno solo de los rostros que lo contemplaban atónitos, de que había entrado en la sala donde se celebraba el juicio y había ocupado su sitio habitual en el banquillo sin mirar una sola vez por encima de la masa de espectadores hacia la puerta del fondo, todavía no se atrevió a admitir en su interior que sabía por qué. Se limitó a seguir allí sentado, tan pequeño, y de aspecto tan frágil y tan inofensivo como un niño que vuelve sucio de la calle, mientras los abogados vociferaban y se peleaban, hasta el final de la jornada, cuando el jurado dijo Culpable y el juez dijo Cadena perpetua y volvió, esposado, a su celda, la puerta se cerró con estrépito y se sentó, tranquilo, inmóvil, el rostro sereno, en el catre de acero sin colchón, esta vez mirando tan sólo el ventanuco con barrotes junto al que, durante meses, había permanecido de pie por espacio de dieciséis o dieciocho horas diarias, alimentando una esperanza inextinguible. "
