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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.

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
Back
Sunshine
Country
Shoulders
Lows
Sea
Inked
Raised
Carolina
Gold
Island
Dark
Islands
Born
Carried

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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've never cackled with laughter at a single line I've ever written. None of it has given me pleasure.
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Once he had drawn first blood, his war against the property of the state lost all its moral resonance.
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American men are allotted just as many tears as American women. But because we are forbidden to shed them, we die long before women do, with our hearts exploding or our blood pressure rising or our livers eaten away by alcohol because that lake of grief inside us has no outlet. We, men, die because our faces were not watered enough.
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Laughter is the only strategy that has ever worked at all for me when my world is falling apart.
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Love's action. It isn't talk and it never has been.
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I still write in long hand. I type like a chimpanzee.
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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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My mother raised me to be a writer.
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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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I had come to a place where I was meant to be. I don't mean anything so prosaic as a sense of coming home. This was different, very different. It was like arriving at a place much safer than home.
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Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends.
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The mind is an intricate mechanism that can be run on the fuels of both victory and defeatism.
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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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Carolina beach music, Dupree said, coming up on the porch. The holiest sound on earth.
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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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If not for sports, I do not think my father would have ever talked to me.
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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.
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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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I’ve never had anyone’s approval, so I’ve learned to live without it.
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