all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved.
Category: Truman Capote
Categories
Quote from Truman Capote
You cold or something?’ he said. She strained against him; she wanted to pass clear through him: ‘It’s a chill, it’s nothing’; and then, pushing a little away: ‘Say you love me.’I said it.’No, oh no. You haven’t. I was listening. And you never do.’Well, give me time.’Please.’He sat up and glanced at a clock across the room. It was after five. Then decisively he pulled off his windbreaker and began to unlace his shoes.Aren’t you going to, Clyde?’He grinned back at her. ‘Yeah, I’m going to.’I don’t mean that; and what’s more, I don’t like it: you sound as though you were talking to a whore.’Come off it, honey. You didn’t drag me up here to tell you about love.’You disgust me,’ she said.Listen to her! She’s sore!’A silence followed that circulated like an aggrieved bird. Clyde said, ‘You want to hit me, huh? I kind of like you when you’re sore: that’s the kind of girl you are,’ which made Grady light in his arms when he lifted and kissed her. ‘You still want me to say it?’ Her head slumped on his shoulder. ‘Because I will,’ he said, fooling his fingers in her hair. ‘Take off your clothes–and I’ll tell it to you good.
Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,’ Holly advised him. ‘That was Doc’s mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.””She’s drunk,” Joe Bell informed me. “Moderately,” Holly confessed….Holly lifted her martini. “Let’s wish the Doc luck, too,” she said, touching her glass against mine. “Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc — it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.
Categories
Quote from Truman Capote
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 indifference this might suggest, supplied him liberally with personal information; which isn’t to say she always told the truth, how many people in love do? or can? but at least she permitted him enough truth to account more or less accurately for all the life she had lived away from him. It was her feeling, however, that he would as soon not hear her confessions: he seemed to want her to be as elusive, as secretive as he was himself.