Quote

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?

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
Moment
Notes
Ecstatic
Moments
Fingers
Blink
Without
Pass
Swift
Time
Allow
Wasting
Breakneck
Taking
Joyous
Circuit
Single
Mindfulness
Snap
Teach
Finger
Circuits
Eye
Note
Snaps

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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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Writing poetry and reading books causes brain damage.
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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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Craziness attacks the softest eyes and hamstrings the gentlest flanks.
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Families without songs are unhappy families.
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It is an art form to hate New York City properly. So far I have always been a featherweight debunker of New York it takes too much energy and endurance to record the infinite number of ways the city offends me.
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I don't believe in happy families.
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Red Hook Road made me happy, and happy to be alive. It took me out of my home on the coast of South Carolina, placed me in the town along Red hook Road, and changed me the way good books always do.
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These are the quicksilver moments of my childhood I cannot remember entirely. Irresistible and emblematic, I can recall them only in fragments and shivers of the heart.
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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 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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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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The safe places could only be visited they could only grant a momentary intuition of sanctuary. The moment always came when we had to return to our real life to face the wounds and grief indigenous to our homr by the river.
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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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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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My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.
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Good writing is the hardest form of thinking.
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Love's action. It isn't talk and it never has been.
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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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Saints make wonderful grandfathers and lousy husbands.
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