February 4, 2008

In honor of February Fourth starting with F's I will quote Faulkner from the only story he ever wrote that took place in Southern Cali:

...It was still high, still afternoon; the mountains stood serene and drab against it; the city, the land, lay sprawled and myraid beneath it - the land, the earth which spawned a thousand new faiths, nostrums and cures each year but no disease to even disprove them on - beneath the golden days unmarred by rain or weather, the changeless monotonous beautiful days without end countless out of the halcyon past and endless into the halycon future.
"I will stay here forever," she said to herself.