Pat Conroy
Pat Conroy
Donald Patrick "Pat" Conroywas a New York Times bestselling American author who wrote several acclaimed novels and memoirs. Two of his novels, The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini, were made into Oscar-nominated films. He is recognized as a leading figure of late-20th century Southern literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth26 October 1945
CityAtlanta, GA
CountryUnited States of America
war blood firsts
Once he had drawn first blood, his war against the property of the state lost all its moral resonance.
travel adventure vacation
Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends.
mother writing raised
My mother raised me to be a writer.
break-off rivers snow
...when the words pour out of you just right, you understand that these sentences are all part of a river flowing out of your own distant, hidden ranges, and all words become the dissolving snow that feeds your mountain streams forever. The language locks itself in the icy slopes of our own high passes, and it is up to us, the writers, to melt the glaciers within us. When these glaciers break off, we get to call them novels, the changelings of our burning spirits, our life's work.
compassion people soul
She thought she brought a gift of compassion for those exhausted souls who had not received a chest portion from the people who raised them. If compassion and therapy did not work, she could always send her patients to the local pharmacy for drugs.
uncles aunt house
I only hope to do well enough before I die to have a house as big as my rich Uncle Ed and Aunt Carole.
soul tides lambs
My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of an indrawn tide.
art new-york hate
It is an art form to hate New York City properly. So far I have always been a featherweight debunker of New York; it takes too much energy and endurance to record the infinite number of ways the city offends me.
risk sometimes sometimes-in-life
Some things don’t mix. Some things don’t mix at all, but sometimes in life you have to take the risk.
college teach lacking
College was to teach me that I was one of life's journeymen, eager to excel but lacking the requisite gifts.
real grief rivers
The safe places could only be visited; they could only grant a momentary intuition of sanctuary. The moment always came when we had to return to our real life to face the wounds and grief indigenous to our homr by the river.
thinking difficult wanted
I don’t know why it is that I have always been happier thinking of somewhere I have been or wanted to go, than where I am at the time. I find it difficult to be happy in the present.
betrayal integrity perfect
There is such a thing as too much beauty in a woman and it is often a burden as crippling as homeliness and far more dangerous. It takes much luck and integrity to survive the gift of perfect beauty, and its impermanence is its most cunning betrayal.
fashion mean doe
I was born into the century in which novels lost their stories, poems their rhymes, paintings their form, and music its beauty, but that does not mean I have to like that trend or go along with it.