happy birthday, william faulkner. I believe you'd be 111 yrs old.

thanks for being so brilliant. you and your "little postage stamp of soil" of which you wrote about.

even though I'm pretty sure I stopped thinking about being a writer, when I discovered the bar at which you set. It pained me really. As I read "As I Lay Dying". And sunk into the reality of what powerful skill truly is.

"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."

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