Technically, I believe Faulkner wrote a 6 page sentence - may have had something to do with mail delivery, I forget. anyway, he was smart enough not to post it here.
For my befuddlement I have only myself to blame. As a mere pinafored child I was taught to diagram English sentences on the blackboard. Consequently, though I can honor Mr. Faulkner as the champion of lost clauses and though I concede the influence of his Doctrine of Original Syntax, for me his sentence structure passes the bounds of parsability. These relative clauses with mysterious antecedents; these parenthetical intruders who drop by for a minute and stay for a week; these qualifications that wear away the original statement till nothing remains but an impalpable verbal dust; these mazy paragraphs in whose dark corridors I wander, a blind, terrified Theseus minus Ariadne’s thread; these non-commutable life sentences — the second one in Requiem for a Nun runs just under two pages: what can a simple country boy like myself, suckled on Fowler’s Modern English Usage, do when set down in the middle of this grammatical Witches’ Sabbath?— Clifton Fadiman.
He, too, was smart enough not to post it here.