Quotes from Pat Conroy

No one has the patent on human suffering. People hurt in different ways and for different reasons.

The scampi tasted sweet like a lobster fed only on honey and it cut into the deep undertone of flavor deposited on the taste buds by the truffles.

Mansions were forming like jewels in my bloodstream.

šeima - pernelyg drausminga armija, kad užjaust? dezertyrus.

You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up.

They love their families with their hearts and souls and they wage war against them to prove it.

I could rent Caesar out at birthday parties. Halloween parties. I could take pictures of Caesar eating a piece of birthday cake. Or a picture of a kid riding Caesar on his birthday. We could build a saddle.

I still believe that they both loved us deeply, but, as with many parents, their love proved to be the most lethal thing about them.

knew how to walk in a great city and I did not. Outlander, visitor, I could smell the sea as I entered the lobby of Savannah's apartment, the old familiar scent of the Eastern seaboard roaring up the Avenues. The antique elevator, the size and shape of a coffin, wheezed and groaned its way to the sixth floor. I set my luggage on the marble floor and tried twelve keys before I discovered the four

Young girls have an infinite capacity for being attracted to the wrong sort of men.

She took my hand and squeezed it. "You sold yourself short. You could've been more than a teacher and a coach." I returned the squeeze and said, "Listen to me, Savannah. There's no word in the language I revere more than teacher. None. My heart sings when a kid refers to me as his teacher and it always has. I've honored myself and the entire family of man by becoming one.

I studied their relationship with something approaching awe because I could not figure out what made it work. I felt love between these two people but it was a love without flame or passion. There were also no rancors or fevers, no risings or ebbings of the spirit to chart, just a marriage without weather, a stillness, a resignation, just windless days in the Gulf Stream of their quiet aging.

Both of them became adept at killing off the best qualities of the other. In some ways, there was something classic and quintessentially American in their marriage. They began as lovers and ended up as the most dangerous and unutterable of enemies. As lovers, they begat children; as enemies, they created damaged, endangered children.

Her eyes were our keys to the palace of wildness.

When the poet closed her eyes the wingspan of the great horned owl cast a tawny shadow over the green immense forests. The owl returned to the forsaken nests of migrating buntings, entered the perfect circle in the heart of cypress, and found the misplaced opal, the color of buttermilk tinted with the inks of crushed violets. The

I've spent most of my life avoiding the companionship of writers. I try never to be rude, just seldom available. Though I have met some of the great writers of our time, I've become good friends with very few of them. The tribe is contentious, the breed dangerous.

On its own, my spirit seemed to relax, like a folding chair let out by a pool.

That's fresh bread. I caught flounder off the rocks early this morning, so I stuffed them with crabmeat and shrimp. There's a fresh spinach salad plus sautéed zucchini and shallots.

La única palabra que describe la bondad es bondad, y no es bastante.

Early on, I had contracted that dread affliction of oldest or only children -- I lived for the absolute approval of my parents.

A woman in Charlotte approached me and said that she's tired of the dysfunction in my novels. I told her I was sorry, but that is how the world has presented itself to me throughout my life.

?ia ir pamilau tas knygas ir autorius taip, kaip moka ir supranta tik ilgame?iai skaitytojai. Geras filmas n? sykio man?s nepaliet? ir nepakeit? taip, kaip gera knyga. Knygos geb?davo amžiams keisti mano poži?r? ? pasaul?. Geras filmas mano pasaulio suvokim? pakeisdavo dienai.

And I have begun thinking of that life as miraculous and lucky. How could a man I had dreaded as my commandant and who tried twice to get me kicked out of college become the subject of the first book I would write? [...] Who could have foreseen the day I would deliver his eulogy at the Summerall Chapel, or that I would give a speech on the night they named the dining room in the new Alumni Hall after him? Not me. Not once. Not ever.

Lucy stood on her tiptoes and kissed John Hardin on the cheek and pulled him tightly against her. She put his forehead against hers and smiled at him until he blushed. Then, Lucy stepped back, looked at the coffin, and played to the crowd. Who gave my secret away It's just what I always wanted and I can't wait to try it on