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Book: Other Voices, Other Rooms
Quotes of Book: Other Voices, Other Rooms

Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
How unnecessary," said Amy. "The child's morbid enough.""All children are morbid: it's their one saving grace," said Randolph, and went right ahead.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
Randolph," he said, "do you know something? I'm very happy." To which his friend made no reply. The reason for this happiness seemed to be simply that he did not feel unhappy; rather, he knew all through him a kind of balance. There was little for him to cope with.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
They can romanticize us so, mirrors, and that is their secret: what a subtle torture it would be to destroy all the mirrors in the world: where then could we look for reassurance of our identities?
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
I tell you, my dear, Narcissus was no egoist… he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, on seeing his reflection, the one beautiful comrade, the only inseparable love… poor Narcissus, possibly the only human who was ever honest on this point.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
...Narcissus was so egotist...he was merely another of us who, in our unshatterable isolation, recognized, on seeing his reflection, the beautiful comrade, the only inseparatable love...poor Narcissus, possibly the only human who was ever honest on this point.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
Aside from all else, there is some truth in that; clocks indeed must have their sacrifice: what is death but an offering to time and eternity?
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
Randolph," he said, "were you ever as young as me?" And Randolph said: "I was never so old.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
There's lots of things you don't know. All kinds of strange things . . . mostly they happened before we were born: that makes them seem to me so much more real.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
Before birth; yes, what time was it then? A time like now, and when they were dead, it would be still like now: these trees, that sky, this earth, those acorn seeds, sun and wind, all the same, while they, with dust-turned hearts, change only.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
{C}locks indeed must have thier sacrifice: what is death but an offering to time and eternity?
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
The feeble-minded, the neurotic, the criminal, perhaps, also, the artist, have unpredictability and perverted innocence in common.
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Truman Capote _ Other Voices, Other Rooms
...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.
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