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William Faulkner

“How do our lives ravel out
into the no-wind, no-sound,
the weary gestures wearily recapitulant:
echoes of old compulsions with no-hand on no-string:
in sunset we fall into furious attitudes,
dead gestures of dolls.”


William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying
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As I Lay Dying As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
154,070 ratings, average rating, 9,214 reviews

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