Faulkner gush

I'm reading my first Faulkner novel, As I Lay Dying. I figured it's about time.
This is good stuff. Part fable, part insanity. Not much for plot, but I just got done with Harry Potter 7, so I'm good on plot for a while. Maybe that's the secret. Read some Dickens or Dumas or Rowling (I wonder when people will start referring to her instead of her main creation) first and then some Faulkner.
Anyway, a bit I really enjoyed:

It begins to rain. The first harsh, sparse, swift drops rush through the leaves and across the ground in a long sigh, as though of relief from intolerable suspense.

Read it aloud. Can't you just hear the rain beginning? From the right pen, all words (almost: forget it, to, the, and...) are onomatopoetic.

Same chapter:

And since sleep is is-not and rain and wind are was, it is not.

Hee-hee. Take that, J.K.Rowling.