Truman Capote Quotes (88 Quotes)

Home is where you feel at home. I'm still looking.

I've tried to believe, but I don't, I can't, and there's no use pretending.

Leave it to me: I'm always top banana in the shock department.

She was a triumph over ugliness, so often more beguiling than real beauty, if only because it contains paradox. In this case, as opposed to the scrupulous method of good taste and scientific grooming, the trick had been worked by exaggerating defects; she'd made them ornamental by admitting them boldly.

I couldn't understand a sense of unease that multiplied until I could hear my heart beating.

Just remember: If one bird carried every grain of sand, grain by grain, across the ocean, by the time he got them all on the other side, that would only be the beginning of eternity.

Lively, too. Talky as a jaybird. With something smart to say on every subject: better than the radio.

A disquieting loneliness came into my life, but it induced no hunger for friends of longer acquaintance: they seemed now like a salt-free, sugarless diet.

She's such a goddamn liar maybe she don't know herself anymore.

I don't think I've ever drunk champagne before breakfast before. With breakfast on several occasions, but never before before.

The enemy was anyone who was someone he wanted to be or who had anything he wanted to have.

Love should be allowed. I'm all for it. Now that I've got a pretty good idea what it is.

Anyone who ever gave you confidence, you owe them a lot.

The way his plump hand clutched at her hip seemed somehow improper; not morally, aesthetically.

I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together.

There's got to be something wrong with us. To do what we did.

Maybe the older you grow and the less easy it is to put thought into action, maybe that's why it gets all locked up in your head and becomes a burden.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.

Those final weeks, spanning end of summer and the beginning of another autumn, are blurred in memory, perhaps because our understanding of each other had reached that sweet depth where two people communicate more often in silence than in words: an affectionate quietness replaces the tensions, the unrelaxed chatter and chasing about that produce a friendship's more showy, more, in the surface sense, dramatic moments.

I loved her enough to forget myself, my self pitying despairs, and be content that something she thought happy was going to happen.

Those fellows, they're always crying over killers. Never a thought for the victims.

My yardstick is how somebody treats me.

As Miss Golightly was saying, before she was so rudely interrupted...

You're wonderful. Unique. I love you.

I told you: you can make yourself love anybody.

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

But it's Sunday, Mr. Bell. Clocks are slow on Sundays.

You're wrong. She is a phony. But on the other hand you're right. She isn't a phony because she's a real phony. She believes all this crap she believes. You can't talk her out of it.

I'll never get used to anything. Anybody that does they might as well be dead.

Oh Jesus God we did belong to each other. He was mine.