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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.
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
Reading
Read
Mother
Bed
Night
Wind
Remember
Went
Years
Almost
Year
Gone
More quotes by Pat Conroy
If not for sports, I do not think my father would have ever talked to me.
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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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Know this. I think you could be special if you only thought there was anything special about yourself.
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Looking around, I thought the human species was in fine shape and tried to think of something more beautiful than women and couldn't come up with a thing. The propagation of the species was a dance of total joy.
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I still write in long hand. I type like a chimpanzee.
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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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Writing has never been that simple for me.
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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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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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There are no verdicts to childhood, only consequences, and the bright freight of memory.
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Every woman I had ever met who walked through the world appraised and classified by an extraordinary physicality had also received the keys to an unbearable solitude. It was the coefficient of their beauty, the price they had to pay.
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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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One of the greatest gifts you can get as a writer is to be born into an unhappy family.
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Saints make wonderful grandfathers and lousy husbands.
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If smallness was fortune, then I had come across a treasure, infinitesimal and beyond value. I felt lucky. You had to decide what was estimable and precious in your life and set out to find it. The objects you valued defined you.
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... silence (can) be the most eloquent form of lying.
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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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Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends.
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Families without songs are unhappy families.
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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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