“Like the waters of the river, like the motorists on the highway, and like the yellow trains streaking down the Santa Fe tracks, drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings, had never stopped there.”
Truman Capote“What are your chief vices? And virtues? I have no vices. The concept doesn't exist in my vocabulary. My chief virtue is gratitude”
Truman Capote“It's a very excruciating life facing that blank piece of paper every day and having to reach up somewhere into the clouds and bring something down out of them.”
Truman Capote, Conversations with Capote“I think the argument that no whites are free of racism is quite erroneous. But then, on another level, does it really matter if anybody is free of any negative feeling about anything? No matter how much you love somebody, you know, there's some part of him you don't like.”
Truman Capote“The trouble with all these far-right and far-left mentalities is that they can encompass only one side of an argument and are congenitally incapable of holding two opinions in their heads at the same time.”
Truman Capote“So if black power means black armies racing through the streets, creating havoc, that certainly does nothing to advance the legitimate political and economic aspirations of the black community. Just the opposite, in fact....If they think a few Molotov cocktails are going to bring down the whole system and build something new, I'm afraid they're just indulging in wishful-thinking,”
Truman Capote, Truman Capote: Conversations“To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the music the words make.”
Truman Capote, Truman Capote: Conversations“...he called after her as shedisappeared down the path, a pretty girl in a hurry...”
Truman Capote, In Cold Blood“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.”
Truman Capote“Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.”
Truman Capote“When God hands you a gift, he also hands you a whip; and the whip is intended for self-flagellation solely.”
Truman Capote