William Faulkner
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Novels by William Faulkner
The Sound and the Fury
Through the fence, between the curling flower spaces, I could see them hitting.
Absalom, Absalom!
From a little after two o'clock until almost sundown of the long still hot weary dead September afternoon they sat in what Miss Coldfield still called the office because her father had called it that---
Light in August
Sitting beside the road, watching the wagon mount the hill toward her, Lena thinks, 'I have come from Alabama: a fur piece.'