We wait for the tortoises to come. We wait for that lady who walks them. Thatโs how art works. Itโs never a jackrabbit, or a racehorse. Itโs the tortoises that hold all the secrets. Weโve got to be patient enough to wait for them.
Pat ConroyThe water was pure and cold and came out of the Apennines tasting like snow melted in the hands of a pretty girl.
Pat ConroyI was trying to unravel the complicated trigonometry of the radical thought that silence could make up the greatest lie ever told.
Pat Conroy