The wind is us – it gathers and remembers all our voices, then sends them talking and telling through the leaves and the fields. — Truman Capote, Truman Capote and the Legacy of “In Cold Blood,” by Ralph F. Voss. (University Alabama Press; 3rd ed. edition March 15, 2015) Originally published January 1st 2011.
Be anything but a coward, a pretender, an emotional crook, a whore: I’d rather have cancer than a dishonest heart. — Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. (Random House 1958)
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 Capote
We all, sometimes, leave each other there under the skies, and we never understand why. — Truman Capote, Music for Chameleons. (Penguin Books, Limited (UK) January 25, 2001) Originally published 1980.
He loved her, he loved her, and until he’d loved her she had never minded being alone. — Truman Capote, Summer Crossing. (Modern Library; Reprint edition June 27, 2006) Started in 1943, published posthumously.
I’ve always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when He came it would be like looking at [a church] window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don’t know it’s getting dark. And it’s been a… Continue reading Truman Capote
Dolly said that when she was a girl she’d liked to wake up winter mornings and hear her father singing as he went about the house building fires; after he was old, after he’d died, she sometimes heard his songs in the field of Indian grass. Wind, Catherine said; and Dolly told her: But the… Continue reading Truman Capote