Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.
PAT CONROYThere are no ideas in the South, just barbecue.
More Pat Conroy Quotes
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One can learn anything, anything at all, I thought, if provided by a gifted and passionate teacher.
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Good writing is the hardest form of thinking. It involves the agony of turning profoundly difficult thoughts into lucid form, then forcing them into the tight-fitting uniform of language, making them visible and clear.
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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 had to like that trend or go along with it. I fight against these movements with every book I write.
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You touch them as they quiver with a divine pleasure. You read them and they fall asleep to happy dreams for the next 10 years. If you do them the favor of understanding them, of taking in their portions of grief and wisdom, then they settle down in contented residence in your heart.
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Writing is the only way I have to explain my own life to myself.
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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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I would always be a better hater of things and institutions than a lover of them.
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There is no teacher more discriminating or transforming than loss.
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Once I had told her that I would rather see a museum bombed than a book underlined, but she dismissed my argument as mere sentimentality. She marked her books so that stunning images and ideas would not be lost to her.
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I’d be a conservative if I’d never met any. They’re selfish, mean-spirited, egocentric, reactionary, and boring.
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Man wonders but God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides.
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Happiness is an accident of nature, a beautiful and flawless aberration.
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I could bear the memory, but I could not bear the music that made the memory such a killing thing.
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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,
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Red Hook Road made me happy, and happy to be alive. It took me out of my home on the coast of South Carolina, placed me in the town along Red hook Road, and changed me the way good books always do.
PAT CONROY