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There are no verdicts to childhood, only consequences, and the bright freight of memory.

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
Consequence
Memory
Childhood
Verdicts
Memories
Freight
Verdict
Consequences
Bright

More quotes by Pat Conroy

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My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of an indrawn tide.
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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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Writing poetry and reading books causes brain damage.
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In family matters you can get over anything. That's one thing you'll learn as an adult. There's a lot you have to learn which is a lot worse than that. You'd never think of forgiving a friend for some of the things your parents did to you. But with friends it's different. Friends aren't the roll of the dice.
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There is no teacher more discriminating or transforming than loss.
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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.
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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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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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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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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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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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If not for sports, I do not think my father would have ever talked to me.
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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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The only word for goodness is goodness, and it is not enough.
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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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Saints make wonderful grandfathers and lousy husbands.
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Evil would always come to me disguised in systems and dignified by law.
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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.
Pat Conroy
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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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Craziness attacks the softest eyes and hamstrings the gentlest flanks.
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