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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.

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
Beautiful
Aberration
Flawless
Accident
Accidents
Happiness
Happy
Nature

More quotes by Pat Conroy

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Fantasy is one of the soul's brighter porcelains.
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Why do they not teach you that time is a finger snap and an eye blink, and that you should not allow a moment to pass you by without taking joyous, ecstatic note of it, not wasting a single moment of its swift, breakneck circuit?
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The English language on her tongue became a smoke-screen, without her eyes changing expression in the least.
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A story untold could be the one that kills you.
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My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of an indrawn tide.
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I learned that if I could read, I could cook. I surprised myself I like it.
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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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A recipe is a story that ends with a good meal.
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You do not learn how to write novels in a writing program. You learn how by leading an interesting life. Open yourself up to all experience. Let life pour through you the way light pours through leaves.
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Good writing is the hardest form of thinking.
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There are no verdicts to childhood, only consequences, and the bright freight of memory.
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Through sports a coach can offer a boy a secret way to sneak up on the mystery that is manhood.
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I’ve never had anyone’s approval, so I’ve learned to live without it.
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Good coaching is good teaching and nothing else.
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We've pretended too much in our family, Luke, and hidden far too much. I think we're all going to pay a high price for our inability to face the truth.
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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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I was born and raised on a Carolina sea island and I carried the sunshine of the low-country, inked in dark gold, on my back and shoulders.
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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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We old athletes carry the disfigurements and markings of contests remembered only by us and no one else. Nothing is more lost than a forgotten game.
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Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
Pat Conroy