Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade just as painting does, or music. If you are born knowing them, fine. If not, learn them. Then rearrange the rules to suit yourself.
TRUMAN CAPOTEI don’t care what anybody says about me as long as it isn’t true.
More Truman Capote Quotes
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Personally, I rather think that if you’re not creative you’ve got a problem on your hands. If you are creative you’ve got a double problem.
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Love is a chain of love as nature is a chain of life.
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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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Are the dead as lonesome as the living?
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Most people don’t find their creativity. There are more unsung geniuses that don’t even know they have great talent.
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They can romanticize us so, mirrors, and that is their secret: what a subtle torture it would be to destroy all the mirrors in the world: where then could we look for reassurance of our identities?
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Writing stopped being fun when I discovered the difference between good writing and bad and, even more terrifying, the difference between it and true art. And after that, the whip came down.
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Yes: but aren’t love and marriage notoriously synonymous in the minds of most women? Certainly very few men get the first without promising the second: love, that is–if it’s just a matter of spreading her legs, almost any woman will do that for nothing.
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There is only one unpardonable sin–deliberate cruelty. All else can be forgiven.
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Good luck and believe me, dearest Doc – it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.
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Imagination, of course, can open any door – turn the key and let terror walk right in.
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Really being friends is the most important part, I think, of any relationship.
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A boy has to peddle his book.
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There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.
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Reading dreams. That’s what started her walking down the road. Every day she’d walk a little further: a mile, and come home. Two miles, and come home. One day she just kept on.
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