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 FaulknerMenfolks listens to somebody because of what he says. Women don't. They don't care what he said. They listens because of what he is.
William FaulknerSo long as the deceit ran along quiet and monotonous, all of us let ourselves be deceived, abetting it unawares or maybe through cowardice.
William Faulkner