Yair’s Reviews > Flags in the Dust > Status Update

"The house sprawled its rambling length in the wintry afternoon, its smoke like a balanced plume on the windless sky. The door was empty and he shook Perry into his easy, tireless foxtrot, the jug of whisky jouncing a little against his knee."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 358)

"And they would lie so, holding to one another in the darkness and the temporary abeyance of his despair and the isolation of that doom he could not escape."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 299)

"After a time he rose and limped to the car and started the engine."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 280)

"In the meanwhile he wrote another letter."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 235)

“I mean, dubbing me a poet,” Horace explained. “The law, like poetry, is the final resort of the lame, the halt, the imbecile and the blind. I dare say Caesar invented the law business to protect himself against poets.”

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 183)

"Nothing to be seen, and the long long span of a man’s natural life. Three score and ten years, to drag a stubborn body about the world and cozen its insistent demands. Three score and ten, the bible said. Seventy years. And he was only twenty-six. Not much more than a third through it. Hell."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 154)

"At the end of the street it stood trembling and snorting and permitted the negro hostler to touch it. Rafe MacCallum still clutched his roll of bills."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 130)

"As they neared the bank Narcissa Benbow came along from the opposite direction, and they met at the door, where he made her a ponderous compliment on her appearance while she stood in her pale dress and shouted her grave voice into his deafness."

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 101)

“Come back again soon,” Miss Jenny called.
“Yes. Soon,” Narcissa answered. “Goodbye.”

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 74)

'Simon said: “You aint never yit planted nothin’ whar hit ought ter be planted.” He sat on the bottom step, whetting the blade of his hoe with a file. Miss Jenny stood with her caller at the edge of the veranda above him, in a man’s felt hat and heavy gloves. A pair of shears dangled below her waist, glinting in the morning sunlight.'

-Faulkner, William. Flags in the Dust (pg. 47)