Tuesday, March 27, 2007

William Faulkner's Essays, Speaches, and Public Letters

I decline to accept the end of man. . . . I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.

William Faulkner was not particularly well-suited to public speaking. His short stature, his shy demeanor, quiet voice and deep Southern dialect all were factors which made it difficult at times for listeners to understand, or even to hear, what he was saying. Nevertheless, he sometimes struck gold, as his 1950 Nobel Prise demonstrates. A reluctant prize recipient, who tried to find good cause not to go to Sweden to accept the award, and a terrified speaker, his speech was initially unintelligible to those in attendance. It was only the next day, when the words of his speech were printed in the newspaper, that commentators would recognize the quality of his speech.
Faulkner did not write very many nonfiction essays, and those few that he did write often bore strong stylistic similarities to his fiction. In fact, he mingled fact and fiction in his most famous essay, “Mississippi.”
Many of Faulkner’s essays and other public nonfiction works were collected in Essays, Speeches, and Public Letters (New York: Random House, 1965), edited by James B. Meriwether. A revised edition of this book with additional material was published in 2004.
Faulkner's Nobel Prise Speech
I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work — a life’s work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing.
Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.
He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed — love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.
Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

A break-up Letter to Gatsby

My dear, Gatsby!
I haven't ever thought that I would write such a letter for you...But I have to do it now! Please, forget me before!
I must admit that things between us had a great and beautiful start.I still remember all the good things that surrounded us: the way you used to touch me, the tender words we dedicated to each other, the way you used to look at me (always with a mix of love and desire), the warmth of your body. Yet, a few months later, it seems that none of the promises that we planted in those fields we created has flourished.Unfortunately, it just didn t happen nothing remains of what looked like a growing love, besides some memories, everything else lost its enchantment fast, and just a bitter taste was left of what tasted like such a sweet candy.It was a shame, it still is a shame, because no one expects a relationship to fail. May be a distance was one of the reasons for it!I want you to know that I don 't feel good about myself or happy with what I just said. To be honest, I 'd much rather be writing about you and how wonderful and fulfilling things have been between us ever since the day we met. But, much to my dislike, there are times in life when you have to be honest, thus avoiding a small misunderstanding that could grow it something more harmful for those involved.You know, despite this decision to break up with you, I' m keeping my fingers crossed that we may touch our lives with more joy, keeping in our hearts and souls the affection and respect we 've always felt for each other. I understand, how bad you are now.
May be it was very cruel, may be you'll hate me, but I had to say it to you! I'm sure, it'll be better for us. We haven't any futute, and you understand it even better than I!
Good bye, my Gatsby! I really loved you!
Your Daisy!

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

I'd like to gather information about the great American writer William Faulkner. He impressed me greatly! I haven't ever heard such a deep and really spiritual speech. He really had a purpose for writting and understand his importance for readers. Moreover, his thoughts and opinions are very close to my mind!

"The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life. Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist’s way of scribbling “Kilroy was here” on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass."


William Faulkner’sPoetry If there be grief, then let it be but rain,
And this but silver grief for grieving's sake,
If these green woods be dreaming here to wake
Within my heart, if I should rouse again.

But I shall sleep, for where is any death
While in these blue hills slumbrous overhead
I'm rooted like a tree? Though I be dead,
This earth that holds me fast will find me breath.

Before he turned his hand to fiction, Faulkner’s literary career was mostly as a poet, fashioning poems modeled rather conscientiously upon such poets as Swinburne and Housman. Essentially a Romantic, Faulkner’s poems frequently reveled in melancholy, unrequited love, and love of nature. Both his first nationally published work — the poem “L’Apres-Midi d’un faune” — and his first published book, The Marble Faun, were poetry.
Later, after turning primarily to fiction as an outlet for his creativity, Faulkner would call himself a “failed poet.”

I decline to accept the end of man. . . . I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
William Faulkner

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Listen to a sound Recording of Banquet Speech of Ernest Hemingway


All about the great American writer William Faulkner



Here are some interesting facts about Ernest Hemingway: his biography, temper, and works. Read this link if you are interested in a way how Hemingway has managed to become a Nobel Prizer!http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/articles/hallengren/index.html

Noble Prize

The Nobel Prize
Every year since 1901 the Nobel Prize has been awarded for achievements in physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine, literature and for peace. The Nobel Prize is an international award administered by the Nobel Foundation in Stockholm, Sweden. In 1968, Sveriges Riksbank established The Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences in Memory of Alfred Nobel, founder of the Nobel Prize. Each prize consists of a medal, personal diploma, and a cash award.