Truman Capote Quotes

Never love a wild thing...If you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky.

If there is no mystery, for the artist, to solve inside of his art, then there's no point in it. . . . for me, every act of art is the act of solving a mystery.

In fact, I was a kind of Hershey Bar whore - there wasn't much I wouldn't do for a nickel's worth of chocolate.

Randolph, he said, were you ever as young as me? And Randolph said: I was never so old.

Now listen to me, Buddy: there is only one unpardonable sin - deliberate cruelty. All else can be forgiven. That, never.

I thought that Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman. I thought so right up to the moment that I cut his throat.

I'm praying for you, Mary. I want you to live forever.

If some wizard would like to give me a present, let him give me a bottle filled with the voices of that kitchen, the ha ha ha and the fire whispering, a bottle brimming with its buttery sugary smells...

The blame of course belonged to Clyde, who just was not much given to talk. Also, he seemed very little curious himself: Grady, alarmed sometimes by the meagerness of his inquiries and the indifferenc...

For all her chic thinness, she had an almost breakfast-cereal air of health, a soap-and-lemon cleanness, a rough pink darkening of the cheeks.

Don't wanna sleep, don't wanna die, just wanna go a-travellin' through the pastures of the sky

It is no shame to have a dirty face- the shame comes when you keep it dirty.

I'd rather have cancer than a dishonest heart. Which isn't being pious. Just practical. Cancer may cool you, but the other's sure to.

You are a human being with a free will. Which puts you above the animal level. But if you live your life without feeling and compassion for your fellowman—you are as an animal—an

It's bad enough in life to do without something YOU want; but confound it, what gets my goat is not being able to give somebody something you want THEM to have.

That's not bad. I can't get excited by a man until he's forty-two.

[C]locks indeed must have thier sacrifice: what is death but an offering to time and eternity?

I love New York, even though it isn't mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it.

June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone.

The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call ‘out there.’ . . .The land is flat, the views are awesomely extensive; horses, herds o...