Friday, July 4, 2008

Above the Somnolent and Impervious Guts

Friday, July 4, 2008

The gown fell gauntly from her shoulders, across her fallen breasts, then tightened upon her paunch and fell again, ballooning a little above the nether garments which she would remove layer by layer as the spring accomplished and the warm days, in color regal and moribund. She had been a big woman once but now her skeleton rose, draped loosely in unpadded skin that tightened again upon a paunch almost dropsical, as though muscle and tissue had been courage and fortitude which the days of the years had consumed until only the indomitable skeleton was left rising like a ruin or a landmark above the somnolent and impervious guts, and above that the collapsed face that gave the impression of the bones themselves outside the flesh, lifted into the driving day with an expression at once fatalistic and of a child’s astonished disappointment, until she turned and entered the house again and closed the door.

- William Faulkner,
The Sound and the Fury, 1929

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

The second sentence is 109 words. A short sentence to describe it.

Nuts! :)

Angeli said...

don't you just love Faulkner? :)

 
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