As I Lay Dying

by William Faulkner

Where she’s got to see him. Where every breath she draws is full of his knocking and sawing where she can see him saying See. See what a good one I am making for you.

Morbid its her coffin

She lived, a lonely woman, lonely with her pride, trying to make folks believe different, hiding the fact that they just suffered her, because she was not cold in the coffin before they were carting her forty miles away to bury her, flouting the will of God to do it.

“God’s will be done,” he says. “Now I can get them teeth.”

Then she begun to sing again, working at the washtub, with that singing look in her face like she had done give up folks and all their foolishness

I could just remember how my father used to say that the reason for living was to get ready to stay dead a long time.