So the days, the last days, blow about in a memory, hazy autumnal, all alike as leaves: until a day unlike any other I've lived
Truman CapoteI'm very scared, Buster. Yes, at last. Because it could go on forever. Not knowing what's yours until you've thrown it away.
Truman CapoteI loved her enough to forget myself, my self pitying despairs, and be content that something she thought happy was going to happen.
Truman CapoteStill, when all is said, somewhere one must belong: even the soaring falcon returns to its master's wrist.
Truman Capote