I was born in Oxford, Mississippi, where Faulkner lived and where he used to occasionally shoot the breeze with my grandfather, the city attorney, in the town square on a bench. I still remember Faulkner, a small, thin man, picking me up and setting me (perhaps 7 or 8 years old) on his lap while the two men having a good conversation laced with humor (which I of course utterly failed to get) about politics, fishing, Ole Miss sports, and women.
I would tell you that I only tonight discovered this site. When I was a boy back in the fifties, and that is the best I can do, my dad was a dermatogist that practiced in Memphis. He took me on a long house call to Oxford, Miss to Roanoke(?) where I threw rocks on a wooden bridge on the driveway at turtles while he treated the patient. Only after the medical part was over did he introduce me to Mr. Falkner. He took me out back and gave me a ride on the back of an old white horse, leading him around the back yard behind the home. Later, he gave me a Coke that he opened on a kitchen table. I wandered through the place and saw all the writing on the walls, which I thought at that age was a big "no-no". I remember shaking his hand, and then leaving in a rain storm that delayed our return for hours to Memphis. My impression of him was that of a gentle and kind man who had a lot of time in his eyes.
One of my favorite pieces of writing ever. I always go back to it, the beauty and meaning and purpose of being alive and being human. My fav is the line about his "puny inexhaustible voice, still talking"... hilarious to me that in the midst of the crashing down of the world, man's hopefulness arises through his persistence to keep going and making sense of the world, somehow.
"...The young man & young 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 & the sweat...universal truths lacking which, any story is ephemeral & doomed - love & honor & pity & pride & compassion & sacrifice...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..." William Faulkner
‘ : that when the last dingdong 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.’ And that is why William Faulkner won the Nobel Prize for Literature.
'...the young man & young 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 & the sweat...universal truths lacking which, any story is ephemeral & doomed - love & honor & pity & pride & compassion & sacrifice...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...'
„I decline to accept the end of man - Man will not only endure, but prevail“ „Ich lehne es ab, an das Ende der Menschheit zu glauben - Die Menschheit wird nicht nur Bestand haben, sondern siegen“ William Faulkners Lieblingssport war die Jagd
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.
Unfortunately, the last paragraph seems to have been cut from this recording of Faulkner's speech. This UA-cam link has a clearer voice as well as the full speech: ua-cam.com/video/gOg30JBnik8/v-deo.html
Boi_SOLO _ probably a mixture of bad audio quality, echoing, people talking in the crowd and not having heard an accent like this in you’re entire life
Probably a mixture of bad audio quality, echoing, people talking in the crowd, not knowing it was gonna be “the greatest acceptance speech of all time” so not properly paying attention and having never heard an accent close to this in you’re entire life. I wasn’t there so idk but I’d guess it was probably all those things and more
There are many notable figures in arts and letters. Above Proust sits Hemingway, and directly above Hemingway sits Dillard. God ranks slightly above her. Above god sits Faulkner.
I was born in Oxford, Mississippi, where Faulkner lived and where he used to occasionally shoot the breeze with my grandfather, the city attorney, in the town square on a bench. I still remember Faulkner, a small, thin man, picking me up and setting me (perhaps 7 or 8 years old) on his lap while the two men having a good conversation laced with humor (which I of course utterly failed to get) about politics, fishing, Ole Miss sports, and women.
Thank you for sharing your marvelous memories with us ! Fascinating !
Thank you for sharing that - what a wonderful memory
You are really a lucky person I think ❤
Some of the most beautiful words ever written. It makes me proud to be a part of this brotherhood of man.
Robert Morse couldn't have said it (or sung it) better !!
May the public read this and realize that these things are still lost in our society..
he is but a personal hero of mine. I feel the fire in his speech, and the desire in his words.
I would tell you that I only tonight discovered this site. When I was a boy back in the fifties, and that is the best I can do, my dad was a dermatogist that practiced in Memphis. He took me on a long house call to Oxford, Miss to Roanoke(?) where I threw rocks on a wooden bridge on the driveway at turtles while he treated the patient. Only after the medical part was over did he introduce me to Mr. Falkner. He took me out back and gave me a ride on the back of an old white horse, leading him around the back yard behind the home. Later, he gave me a Coke that he opened on a kitchen table. I wandered through the place and saw all the writing on the walls, which I thought at that age was a big "no-no". I remember shaking his hand, and then leaving in a rain storm that delayed our return for hours to Memphis. My impression of him was that of a gentle and kind man who had a lot of time in his eyes.
One of my favorite pieces of writing ever. I always go back to it, the beauty and meaning and purpose of being alive and being human. My fav is the line about his "puny inexhaustible voice, still talking"... hilarious to me that in the midst of the crashing down of the world, man's hopefulness arises through his persistence to keep going and making sense of the world, somehow.
Much Appreciated!!! Thank you for posting this!!
I heartily concur !
My mother, born in 1938, heard him speak at her high school!
Your mother is really a lucky person ❤
For suuuure…
Each day this brilliant man's words ring more true. The humming of an immortal bell rung.
He has that classic southern accent that has a slight British tint to it
The audience had no idea what he was saying due to his accent
da ra well, that and the fact that he was drunk pretty much all the time and perpetually slurred his words.
"...The young man & young 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 & the sweat...universal truths lacking which, any story is ephemeral & doomed - love & honor & pity & pride & compassion & sacrifice...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..." William Faulkner
Brilliant upload, thank you! 🤙🏾
You can tell he wasn't being comfortable with public reading, but is accent is so regal and his speaking so composed !
I have a notion to second that emotion !
‘ : that when the last dingdong 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.’
And that is why William Faulkner won the Nobel Prize for Literature.
'...the young man & young 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 & the sweat...universal truths lacking which, any story is ephemeral & doomed - love & honor & pity & pride & compassion & sacrifice...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...'
That’s not the end of the speech, though. There’s a whole few sentences to go, which I find to be the most potent.
„I decline to accept the end of man - Man will not only endure, but prevail“
„Ich lehne es ab, an das Ende der Menschheit zu glauben - Die Menschheit wird nicht nur Bestand haben, sondern siegen“
William Faulkners Lieblingssport war die Jagd
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.
I came from George RR Martin refference of "the human heart in conflict with itself" 1:20
Damn was he nervous here
Unfortunately, the last paragraph seems to have been cut from this recording of Faulkner's speech. This UA-cam link has a clearer voice as well as the full speech: ua-cam.com/video/gOg30JBnik8/v-deo.html
Wow!
The last (and perhaps most important) part of the speech is missing.
1:45 Fucking..haha
Too bad this cuts off before the final paragraph which is the rhetorical cornerstone.
Right?! That's the most important part!
I don’t see how the people couldn’t understand him when he first did this
Boi_SOLO _ probably a mixture of bad audio quality, echoing, people talking in the crowd and not having heard an accent like this in you’re entire life
@@6god358 You, ah say, you hit the nail on the head, son.
How did the audience have a hard time understanding him?
He fumbled his words a bit. He was probably nervous, he's a writer not a speaker.
Most of them did not speak English
some say he was drunk.
What is the best William Faulkner book
Absalom, Absalom! and The Sound and the Fury are probably his crowning achievements. But they are difficult books, be forewarned.
❤
OOOH he has a more fun southern accent that I don't hear much of down here. Interesting. Kind of like Foghorn leghorn.
You're, I say, you're right !
People couldn’t understand this?
Exactly! I don't understand what's there so difficult to understand here???
Probably a mixture of bad audio quality, echoing, people talking in the crowd, not knowing it was gonna be “the greatest acceptance speech of all time” so not properly paying attention and having never heard an accent close to this in you’re entire life. I wasn’t there so idk but I’d guess it was probably all those things and more
ttch. i say they plain ole learn to pledge honor. who . they are. who we were. and all of us tommorrow. g'ud dae !
He sounds like everyone I know and well lmao I guess I am in the south so aha
ai que tudoo
There are many notable figures in arts and letters. Above Proust sits Hemingway, and directly above Hemingway sits Dillard. God ranks slightly above her.
Above god sits Faulkner.
where would you put delillo, vonnegut, dick, dreiser, jim thompson, hl mencken, updike, roth, john irving?
Disgusting and stupid comment that Faulkner would no doubt scorn.
Above Faulkner there sits Hemmingway--but only if you are sympatico. Within "The Bear" lies the soul of Faulkner. JCH Oxford, MS
Steve Brule the only thing disgusting is you trying to tell another human there opinion is wrong because it doesn’t line up with yours
Whats so great about faulkner?
ttch. i say they plain ole learn to pledge honor. who . they are. who we were. and all of us tommorrow. g'ud dae ! plz.
Am I the only who don't understand a goddamn word he said?
No one in he audience understood what he said ... I understand ever thing he said .. my grand parents were southerners
@@dayra6425, it’s true, Swedes wouldn’t have understood his speech, I do understand it pretty clearly, since I am South American.
I use to read faulkner decades ago. However, in retrospect, i dont understand how he could win the nobel prize for what he wrote.
Really?
Faulkner pioneered use of the stream-of-consciousness technique. Moreover. the range and depth of his characterization was stunning.
Another dude won one for being a corrupt junior state senator. 🤷♀
ttch. i say they plain ole learn to pledge honor. who . they are. who we were. and all of us tommorrow. g'ud dae ! plz.