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Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.

Pat Conroy

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Pat Conroy
Age: 70 †
Born: 1945
Born: October 26
Died: 2016
Died: March 4
Author
Basketball Player
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Atlanta
Georgia
Patrick Conroy
Donald Patrick Conroy
Thing
Like
Pewter
Flung
Shiny
Laughter
Air
Laughing
High

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A story untold could be the one that kills you.
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Comely was the town by the curving river that they dismantled in a year's time. Beautiful was Colleton in her last spring as she flung azaleas like a girl throwing rice at a desperate wedding. In dazzling profusion, Colleton ripened in a gauze of sweet gardens and the town ached beneath a canopy of promissory fragrance.
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Man wonders but God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides.
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But no one walks out of his family without reprisals: a family is too disciplined an army to offer compassion to its deserters.
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My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of an indrawn tide.
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The pursuit of greatness means that laziness has no place in your life.
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He was one of those rare men who are capable of being fully in love only once in their lives.
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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.
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I meet kids now who become novelists, poets, write for the theater and movies, who were simply inspired by what they saw during the Spoleto Festival.
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We wait for the tortoises to come. We wait for that lady who walks them. That’s how art works. It’s never a jackrabbit, or a racehorse. It’s the tortoises that hold all the secrets. We’ve got to be patient enough to wait for them.
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The water was pure and cold and came out of the Apennines tasting like snow melted in the hands of a pretty girl.
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Saints make wonderful grandfathers and lousy husbands.
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I wanted to become the seeker, the aroused and passionate explorer, and it was better to go at it knowing nothing at all, always choosing the unmarked bottle, always choosing your own unproven method, armed with nothing but faith and a belief in astonishment.
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There is no teacher more discriminating or transforming than loss.
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I never read my reviews... not even the good ones. Barbra Streisand once told me, if just one person in the audience doesn't applaud, it bothers her. I'm the same way. I'd be devastated to read that someone didn't like my work.
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When I was 5 years old, my mother read me 'Gone With The Wind' at night, before I went to bed. I remember her reading almost all year.
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Laughter is the only strategy that has ever worked at all for me when my world is falling apart.
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She was one of those Southerners who knew from an early age that the South could never be more for them than a fragrant prison, administered by a collective of loving but treacherous relatives.
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Fantasy is one of the soul's brighter porcelains.
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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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