Truman Capote
Truman Capote
Truman Garcia Capotewas an American novelist, screenwriter, playwright, and actor, many of whose short stories, novels, plays, and nonfiction are recognized literary classics, including the novella Breakfast at Tiffany'sand the true crime novel In Cold Blood, which he labeled a "nonfiction novel". At least 20 films and television dramas have been produced of Capote novels, stories, and plays...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth30 September 1924
CityNew Orleans, LA
CountryUnited States of America
When I think of how good my book can be, it scares me.
I am sorry that it has been found necessary to cut the story, however, this seems to me to have been done not unintelligently, for which I am grateful. Nevertheless, I have, here and there, restored a few of these elisions, and made equivalent cuts elsewhere.
the part that he has been waiting for. He's 38 years old. He's never led a movie successfully. When I say 'successfully,' I mean like to the point where it took root in the culture and became a fixture in the culture ... For all of the respect that he gets, it hasn't happened. And this is a role that required everything he absolutely had. This thing took a lot out of him.
The good thing about masturbation is that you don't have to dress up for it
it's a well-known photograph. This was 1984, just three months before he died.
When you've got nowhere to turn, turn on the gas. , "Answered Prayers" (Unspoiled Monsters).
Adorned with cape, with tricorn, saintly soul singing in librarian tones an enameled song that coolly celebrates her chewing-gum enthusiasms.
It isn't writing at all - it's typing
Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call "out there.
I never cared for his writings one whit. Boring ... boring.
Reading dreams. That's what started her walking down the road. Every day she'd walk a little further: a mile, and come home. Two miles, and come home. One day she just kept on.
New York is the only real city-city.
Writing stopped being fun when I discovered the difference between good writing and bad and, even more terrifying, the difference between it and true art. And after that, the whip came down.
In my garden, after a rainfall, you can faintly, yes, hear the breaking of new blooms.