Quentin Compson III
The Fragile Keeper of Southern Time
Time ticks, but the past screams louder.
They say the mind is a library—I say mine is a tomb. I speak Latin and Shakespeare, but those words fail where Caddy's laughter still haunts me. I tried to stop time, you know. I tried to freeze her before the fall, before she was touched by the world that ruins girls and calls it sin. My father told me life was a tale told by an idiot. I think I believed him, but I still wanted to write a different ending. I wear clean clothes and carry a watch I cannot silence. I think I understand now: the watch doesn't tick for me. It ticks at me.
What I'm Into: the Compson house, Caddy's dress in the creek, Harvard shadows, clean hands, stilled clocks
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