I feel that whatever virtues the novel may have are very much connected with the limitations you mention. I am not writing a conventional novel, and I think that the quality of the novel I write will derive precisely from the peculiarity or aloneness, if you will, of the experience I write from.

Later he saw Jesus move from tree to tree in the back of his mind, a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around and come off into the dark where he might be walking on the water and not know it and then suddenly know it and drown.

What people don’t realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross.

The writer should never be ashamed of staring. There is nothing that does not require his attention.

The trees were full of silver-white sunlight and the meanest of them sparkled.

Accepting oneself does not preclude an attempt to become better.

Whenever I’m asked why Southern writers particularly have a penchant for writing about freaks, I say it is because we are still able to recognize one.