The clock tick-tocked, solemn and profound. It might have been the dry pulse of the decaying house itself, after a while it whirred and cleared its throat and struck six times.
William FaulknerThat which is destroying the Church is not the outward groping of those within it nor the inward groping of those without, but the professionals who control it and who have removed the bells from its steeples.
William FaulknerTell about the South. What's it like there. What do they do there. Why do they live there. Why do they live at all.
William Faulkner