To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it's about, but the inner music that words make.
Truman CapoteI think I would have written five times as much as I've written if I didn't have this terrible sense of perfection.
Truman CapoteAnd since gin to artifice bears the same relation as tears to mascara, her attractions at once dissembled.
Truman CapoteYou can love somebody without it being like that. You keep them a stranger, a stranger who's a friend.
Truman CapoteIt snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted, and Mrs. Miller lost track of the days: Friday was no different from Saturday and on Sunday she went to the grocery: closed, of course.
Truman Capote