Truman Capote
Truman Capote
Truman Garcia Capotewas an American novelist, screenwriter, playwright, and actor, many of whose short stories, novels, plays, and nonfiction are recognized literary classics, including the novella Breakfast at Tiffany'sand the true crime novel In Cold Blood, which he labeled a "nonfiction novel". At least 20 films and television dramas have been produced of Capote novels, stories, and plays...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
Date of Birth30 September 1924
CityNew Orleans, LA
CountryUnited States of America
When you've got nowhere to turn, turn on the gas. , "Answered Prayers" (Unspoiled Monsters).
It isn't writing at all - it's typing
I'll pay you a million dollars if you tell your life story for true.
Whatever relationship you have, man or woman, you have to be very attentive and you have to be a very good friend to them regardless of what they do.
I just live one day at a time. That's my new theory in life.
I hated Hemingway. I liked Faulkner but he was a bore.
the part that he has been waiting for. He's 38 years old. He's never led a movie successfully. When I say 'successfully,' I mean like to the point where it took root in the culture and became a fixture in the culture ... For all of the respect that he gets, it hasn't happened. And this is a role that required everything he absolutely had. This thing took a lot out of him.
I love New York, even though it isn't mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it.
In my garden, after a rainfall, you can faintly, yes, hear the breaking of new blooms.
New York is the only real city-city.
All human life has its seasons and cycles, and no one's personal chaos can be permanent. Winter, after all, gives way to spring and summer, though sometimes when branches stay dark and the earth cracks with ice, one thinks they will never come, that spring, and that summer, but they do, and always.
And since gin to artifice bears the same relation as tears to mascara, her attractions at once dissembled.
The wind is us-- it gathers and remembers all our voices, then sends them talking and telling through the leaves and the fields.
Just remember: If one bird carried every grain of sand, grain by grain, across the ocean, by the time he got them all on the other side, that would only be the beginning of eternity.