When mom and dad went to war the only prisoners they took were the children
PAT CONROYOne of the greatest gifts you can get as a writer is to be born into an unhappy family.
More Pat Conroy Quotes
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Anyone who knows me well must understand and be sympathetic to my genuine need to be my own greatest hero. It is not a flaw of character; it is a catastrophe.
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I do not have any other way of saying it. I think it happens but once and only to the very young when it feels like your skin could ignite at the mere touch of another person. You get to love like that but once.
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Here is all I ask of a book- give me everything. Everything, and don’t leave out a single word.
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I discovered that He had simply given me a different voice to praise the inexhaustible beauty of the made world.
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Man wonders but God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides.
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Do you think that Hemingway knew he was a writer at twenty years old? No, he did not. Or Fitzgerald, or Wolfe. This is a difficult concept to grasp. Hemingway didn’t know he was Ernest Hemingway when he was a young man.
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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.
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Men are prisoners of their genitalia and women are the keepers of the keys to paradise.
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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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Evil would always come to me disguised in systems and dignified by law.
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When men talk about the agony of being men, they can never quite get away from the recurrent theme of self-pity.
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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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It did not look like the work of God, but it might have represented the handicraft of a God with a joyous sense of humor, a dancing God who loved mischief as much as prayer, and playfulness as much as mischief.
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Her library would have been valuable to a bibliophile except she treated her books execrably. I would rarely open a volume that she had not desecrated by underlining her favorite sections with a ball-point pen.
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I prayed hard and only gradually became aware that this fierce praying was a way of finding prologue and entrance into my own writing. This came as both astonishment and relief. When I thought God had abandoned me,
PAT CONROY