“‘Now I want you to tell me just one thing more. Why do you hate the South?’
“‘I don’t hate it,’ Quentin said, quickly, at once, immediately; ‘I don’t hate it,’ he said. ‘I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!’”
William Faulkner, Absalom! Absalom!