Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only one question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat. He must learn them again.
Perhaps it is worth mentioning that Faulkner was drunk when he gave the speech in Stockholm. But then I must also mention he was likely sober when he wrote it.
For my part, I don't think much has changed in the intervening fifty-seven years.