Quote

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.

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
Made
Took
Hook
Way
Along
Placed
Good
Changed
Coast
Always
Alive
Town
Books
Red
Happy
Towns
Home
Road
Book
South
Carolina

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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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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'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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My mother raised me to be a writer.
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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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I've always found paranoia to be a perfectly defensible position.
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I've never cackled with laughter at a single line I've ever written. None of it has given me pleasure.
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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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Man wonders but God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides.
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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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Good coaching is good teaching and nothing else.
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She thought she brought a gift of compassion for those exhausted souls who had not received a chest portion from the people who raised them. If compassion and therapy did not work, she could always send her patients to the local pharmacy for drugs.
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My father wouldn't let me take typing in childhood.
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It's impossible to explain to a Yankee what `tacky' is. They simply have no word for it up north, but my God, do they ever need one.
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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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Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
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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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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.
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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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I stood face to face with the moon and the ocean and the future that spread out with all its bewildering immensity before me.
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