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
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...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.
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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.
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Local people seemed very angry for a very long time. It was extraordinary backlash. I was called a liar, I was called every(thing) else. It was enough of a backlash that I moved to Atlanta.
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Look for retailers to offer innovative promotional campaigns for gift cards this year, because these cards have become such as favorite with shoppers, ... Online redemptions, co-branding and personalization of cards are some of the features that successful retailers are initiating this year.
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My mother saw in 'Gone With the Wind' the text of liberating herself, ... She took 'Gone With the Wind' as the central book in her life, and made it the central book in her family.
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I thought I'd stumbled onto Pluto. What I did not realize, I had stumbled into the great lie. They were separate but there was no equality whatsoever.
There's always a version of me who is the narrator. And I make myself look better than other people.
I'm not the lovable, wonderful, tenderhearted grandfather that you read about in books. I'm grouchy and curmudgeonly, and I have a lot of rules.
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When I bought a collection of Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, I returned home with a bright enthusiasm to begin the long march into the Russian soul. Though I've failed to read either man to completion, they both helped me to imagine that my fictional South Carolina was as vast a literary acreage as their Russia.
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I have found human nature a bit contradictory in my living of it. Human life is incredibly strange.
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Love came in wounded and frantic ways to my dismaying family.
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I still get weepy when I see a father being nice to his child. It so affects me.
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I mark the reading of 'Look Homeward, Angel' as one of the pivotal events of my life. It starts off with the single greatest, knock-your-socks-off first page I have ever come across in my careful reading of world literature.
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A novel is a great act of passion and intellect, carpentry and largess. From the very beginning, I wrote to explain my own life to myself, and I invited readers who chose to make the journey with me to join me on the high wire.