“Morning. Frozen rime lusters the grass; the sun, round as an orange and orange as hot-weather moons, balances on the horizon, burnishes the silvered winter woods. A wild turkey calls. A renegade hog grunts in the undergrowth.” — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
“You can beat your brains out for her, and she’ll hand you horseshit on a platter.” — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
“The walls of the cell fell away, the sky came down, I saw the big yellow bird.” — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
There is really no practical help that one can offer; it is a matter of self-discovery, of one's own convictions, or working with one's… — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
“...Narcissus was so egotist...he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, on seeing his reflection, the beautiful comrade, the only… — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
“Is it - I'm not certain - possible to love someone if your first interest is the use you can make of him? Doesn't… — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
One of the most difficult things in writing a novel or anything at all is to choose the point of view from which it's… — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
I've never worked for a newspaper. I've had some very bad reviews in newspapers. — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
But, my dear, so few things are fulfilled: what are most lives but a series of incompleted episodes? 'We work in the dark, we… — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
“…she, glittery voyager of secure destination, steamed down the harbor with whistles whistling and confetti in the air.” — Truman Capote Copy Share Image
