Pat Conroy
Pat Conroy
Donald Patrick "Pat" Conroywas a New York Times bestselling American author who wrote several acclaimed novels and memoirs. Two of his novels, The Prince of Tides and The Great Santini, were made into Oscar-nominated films. He is recognized as a leading figure of late-20th century Southern literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth26 October 1945
CityAtlanta, GA
CountryUnited States of America
beautiful thinking joy
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.
book generosity forever
Few things linger longer or become more indwelling than that feeling of both completion and emptiness when a great book ends. That the book accompanies the reader forever from that day forward is part of literature's profligate generosity.
men tides capable
He was one of those rare men who are capable of being fully in love only once in their lives.
men self agony
When men talk about the agony of being men, they can never quite get away from the recurrent theme of self-pity. And when women talk about being women, they can never quite get away from the recurrent theme of blaming men.
soul fantasy porcelain
Fantasy is one of the soul's brighter porcelains.
military world good-mood
I was the only person in the world who thought it was a military duty to appear to be in a good mood.
art waiting secret
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.
sports boys secret
Through sports a coach can offer a boy a secret way to sneak up on the mystery that is manhood.
war blood firsts
Once he had drawn first blood, his war against the property of the state lost all its moral resonance.
travel adventure vacation
Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends.
mother writing raised
My mother raised me to be a writer.
break-off rivers snow
...when the words pour out of you just right, you understand that these sentences are all part of a river flowing out of your own distant, hidden ranges, and all words become the dissolving snow that feeds your mountain streams forever. The language locks itself in the icy slopes of our own high passes, and it is up to us, the writers, to melt the glaciers within us. When these glaciers break off, we get to call them novels, the changelings of our burning spirits, our life's work.
compassion people soul
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.
uncles aunt house
I only hope to do well enough before I die to have a house as big as my rich Uncle Ed and Aunt Carole.