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Evil would always come to me disguised in systems and dignified by law.

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
Come
Always
Would
Dignified
Disguised
Systems
Law
Evil

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Love's action. It isn't talk and it never has been.
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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 wrote to explain my own life to myself, stories are the vessels I use to interpret the world to myself.
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Baseball fans love numbers. They love to swirl them around their mouths like Bordeaux wine.
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Fantasy is one of the soul's brighter porcelains.
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Once he had drawn first blood, his war against the property of the state lost all its moral resonance.
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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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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.
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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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I loved my parents... but that can never change the fact that my father's violence ruined my childhood.
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There is no downside to winning. It feels forever fabulous.
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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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I still write in long hand. I type like a chimpanzee.
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Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
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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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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 don’t know why it is that I have always been happier thinking of somewhere I have been or wanted to go, than where I am at the time. I find it difficult to be happy in the present.
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The mind is an intricate mechanism that can be run on the fuels of both victory and defeatism.
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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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