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Fantasy is one of the soul's brighter porcelains.

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
Porcelain
Brighter
Fantasy
Soul

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Writing is the only way I have to explain my own life to myself.
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I still write in long hand. I type like a chimpanzee.
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I realized early that unless you're willing to kill the innocent, you can't win.
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Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
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Except for memory, time would have no meaning at all.
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My father wouldn't let me take typing in childhood.
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She had so mastered the strategies of camouflage that her own history had seemed a series of well-placed mirrors that kept her hidden from herself.
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Love's action. It isn't talk and it never has been.
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Good writing ... involves the agony of turning profoundly difficult thoughts into lucid form, then forcing them into the tight-fitting uniform of language, making them visible and clear.
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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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Carolina beach music, Dupree said, coming up on the porch. The holiest sound on earth.
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Walking the streets of Charleston in the late afternoons of August was like walking through gauze or inhaling damaged silk.
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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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Know this. I think you could be special if you only thought there was anything special about yourself.
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My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.
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I lived with the terrible knowledge that one day I would be an old man still waiting for my real life to start. Already, I pitied that old man.
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A recipe is a story that ends with a good meal.
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