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Still, when all is said, somewhere one must belong: even the soaring falcon returns to its master's wrist.

Truman Capote

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Truman Capote
Age: 59 †
Born: 1924
Born: September 30
Died: 1984
Died: August 25
Actor
Artist
Author
Autobiographer
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Screenwriter
Writer
New Orleans
Louisiana
Truman Streckfus Persons
Truman Garcia Capote
Stills
Wrists
Still
Returns
Must
Soar
Even
Belong
Master
Somewhere
Falcon
Masters
Soaring
Return
Wrist

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I never had a rejection slip in my life.
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I always write the end of everything first. I always write the last chapters of my books before I write the beginning....Then I go back to the beginning. I mean, it's always nice to know where you're going is my theory.
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I think I would have written five times as much as I've written if I didn't have this terrible sense of perfection.
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My father was quite an attractive guy. He was very intelligent and very amusing. I didn't like him. He was always very nice to me but I just didn't like him.
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That's the question: is truth an illusion, or is illusion truth, or are they essentially the same? Myself, I don't care what anybody says about me as long as it isn't true.
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Mick Jagger is about as sexy as a pissing toad.
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How do I look so young? Quite simple: a complete vegetable diet, 12 hours sleep a night, and lots and lots of make-up.
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Love is a chain of love as nature is a chain of life.
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Most of life is so dull it is not worth discussing, and it is dull at all ages. When we change our brand of cigarette, move to a new neighborhood, subscribe to a different newspaper, fall in and out of love, we are protesting in ways both frivolous and deep against the not to be diluted dullness of day-to-day living.
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Talent, and genius as well, is like a grain of pearl sand shifting about in the creative mind. A valued tormentor.
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We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why.
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Hulga the whole while hollering like a half-slaughtered hog. (Attention, students of literature! Alliteration - have you noticed? - is my least vice.)
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The most dangerous thing in the world is to make a friend of an Englishman, because he'll come sleep in your closet rather than spend 10 shillings on a hotel.
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Work is the only device I know of.
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The instant she saw the letter she squinted her eyes and bent her lips in a tough tiny smile that advanced her age immeasurably. Darling, she instructed me, would you reach in the drawer there and give me my purse. A girl doesn't read this sort of thing without her lipstick.
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I remember things the way they should have been.
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I loved her enough to forget myself, my self pitying despairs, and be content that something she thought happy was going to happen.
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Gasping for breath, the body still battling for life.
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Of course, at their best, movies are anti-literature and, as a medium, belong not to writers, not to actors, but to directors.
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Every day is a new day with me. All holds are off. All contracts are forgotten.
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