Mary Flannery O'Connor (March 25, 1925 – August 3, 1964) was an American writer and essayist. She wrote two novels and thirty-two short stories, as well as a number of reviews and commentaries.
You can't clobber any reader while he's looking. You divert his attention, then you clobber him and he never knows what hit him.
Right now the whole world seems to be going through a dark night of the soul.
The old woman was the kind who would not cut down a large old tree because it was a large old tree.
She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick.
All human nature vigorously resists grace because grace changes us and the change is painful.
There won't be any biographies of me because, for only one reason, lives spent between the house and the chicken yard do not make exciting copy.
You don't serve God by saying: the Church is ineffective, I'll have none of it. Your pain at its lack of effectiveness is a sign of your nearness to God. We help overcome this lack of effectiveness simply by suffering on account of it.
Good and evil appear to be joined in every culture at the spine.
Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to never was there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it
I spend three hours a day writing and the rest of my day getting over it.
Later he saw Jesus move from tree to tree in the back of his mind, a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around and come off into the dark where he might be walking on the water and not know it and then suddenly know it and drown.
I do not like the raw sound of the human voice in unison unless it is under the discipline of music.
Satisfy your demand for reason but always remember that charity is beyond reason, and God can be known through charity.
The mind serves best when it's anchored in the Word of God. There is no danger then of becoming an intellectual without integrity.
The idea of being a writer attracts a good many shiftless people, those who are merely burdened with poetic feelings or afflicted with sensibility.
She was a good Christian woman with a large respect for religion, though she did not, of course, believe any of it was true.
The reviewer always has hold of the wrong horror.
Dogma is the guardian of mystery. The doctrines are spiritually significant in ways that we cannot fathom.
The basic experience of everyone is the experience of human limitation.
Sickness is a place,. . . and it's always a place where there's no company, where nobody can follow.