There is no brand of intolerance so tiresome as that which results in condemning characteristics you yourself possess.
I can’t accept overnight what I’ve always denied.
Kay yawned and rested her forehead against the windowpane, her fingers idly strumming the guitar: the strings sang a hollow, lulling tune, as monotonously soothing as the Southern landscape, smudged in darkness, flowing past the window. An icy winter moon rolled above the train across the night sky like a thin white wheel.
Far from resenting these lessons, the pupil, to please his tutor, once composed a sheaf of poems, and though the verses were very obscene, Perry, who thought them nevertheless hilarious, had had the manuscript leather-bound in a prison shop and its title, Dirty Jokes, stamped in gold.
Successful theft exhilarates.
No one lingered, neither the press corps nor any of the towns people. Warm rooms and warm suppers beckoned them, and as they hurried away, leaving the cold square to the two gray cats, the miraculous autumn departed too; the year’s first snow began to fall.
I didn’t know ten people who had radios.
But mostly, I wanted to tell about her cat. I had kept my promise; I had found him. It took weeks of after-work roaming through those Spanish Harlem streets... he was seated in the window of a warm-looking room: I wondered what his name was, for I was certain he had one now, certain he’d arrived somewhere he belonged. African hut or whatever, I hope Holly has, too.
And turning in space, her hair swung like a victory. They danced until all at once and as one the music dimmed and the stars went dark.
Vivimos en la oscuridad, hacemos lo que podemos, el resto es la demencia del arte.
It is almost impossible for a man who enjoys freedom with all its prerogatives, to realize what it means to be deprived of that freedom.
As is customary, the warden, having finished his recitation, asked the condemned man whether he had any last statement to make. Hickock nodded. “I just want to say I hold no hard feelings. You people are sending me to a better world than this ever was”;.
Mr. Capote twice won the O. Henry Memorial Short Story Prize and was a member of the National Institute of Arts and Letters. He died in August 1984, shortly before his sixtieth birthday.
He had merely fallen face down across the bed, as though sleep were a weapon that had struck him from behind.
Old women beat their heads against the walls, moaning men prostrated themselves: it was the art of sorrow, and those who best mimicked grief were much admired. After the funeral everyone went away, satisfied that they’d done a good job.
Whatever his reason, it can’t have been calculated. Which is why what you did was much worse: you planned to humiliate him. It was deliberate. Now listen to me, Buddy: there is only one unpardonable sin – deliberate cruelty. All else can be forgiven. That, never.
It all began in Harry’s Bar, as so many Venetian escapades do.
You must cross your heart and kiss your elbow.
The fine lawn surrounding.
I’m not a cold plate of m-m-macaroni. I’m a warm-hearted person. It’s the basis of my character.