Explore "As I Lay Dying" by William Faulkner on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We have been passing the signs for some time now: the drugstores, the clothing stores, the patent medicine and the garages and cafés, and the mile-boards diminishing, becoming more starkly re-accruent: 3 mi. 2 mi. From the crest of a hill, as we get into the wagon again, we can see the smoke low and flat, seemingly unmoving in the unwinded afternoon.
"Is that it, Darl? " Vardaman says. "Is that Jefferson? " He too has lost flesh; like ours, his face has an expression strained, dreamy, and gaunt.