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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
Wonderful
Make
Grandfathers
Lousy
Husbands
Saints
Grandfather
Saint
Husband
More quotes by Pat Conroy
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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The pursuit of greatness means that laziness has no place in your life.
Pat Conroy
Once he had drawn first blood, his war against the property of the state lost all its moral resonance.
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Good writing is the hardest form of thinking.
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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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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.
Pat Conroy
I learned that if I could read, I could cook. I surprised myself I like it.
Pat Conroy
Cameras are a lifesaver for very shy people who have nowhere else to hide. Behind a lens they can disguise the fact that they have nothing to say to strangers.
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Carolina beach music, Dupree said, coming up on the porch. The holiest sound on earth.
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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.
Pat Conroy
Love had always issued out of the places that hurt the most.
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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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The English language on her tongue became a smoke-screen, without her eyes changing expression in the least.
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Writing poetry and reading books causes brain damage.
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A recipe is a story that ends with a good meal.
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The children of warriors in our country learn the grace and caution that come from a permanent sense of estrangement.
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Without music, life is a journey through a desert.
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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.
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My mother raised me to be a writer.
Pat Conroy
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.
Pat Conroy