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Saints make wonderful grandfathers and lousy husbands.

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
Grandfather
Saint
Husband
Wonderful
Make
Grandfathers
Lousy
Husbands
Saints

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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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Good writing is the hardest form of thinking.
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A recipe is a story that ends with a good meal.
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Her laughter was a shiny thing, like pewter flung high in the air.
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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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My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call.
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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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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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We children sat transfixed before that moon our mother had called forth from the waters. When the moon had reached its deepest silver, my sister, Savannah, though only three, cried aloud to our mother, to Luke and me, to the river and the moon, Oh, Mama, do it again! And I had my earliest memory.
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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 realized early that unless you're willing to kill the innocent, you can't win.
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The world of literature has everything in it, and it refuses to leave
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The only word for goodness is goodness, and it is not enough.
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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.
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Craziness attacks the softest eyes and hamstrings the gentlest flanks.
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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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The pursuit of greatness means that laziness has no place in your life.
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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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Humanity is best described as inhumanity.
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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?
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