Frasi di Truman Capote

“[…] la signorina aveva un gatto, e suonava la chitarra. Nei giorni in cui il sole picchiava forte si lavava i capelli, poi, assieme al gatto, un maschio rosso tigrato, si metteva a sedere sulla scala di soccorso a pizzicare la chitarra mentre i capelli asciugavano. Ogni volta che sentivo la musica, andavo a mettermi in silenzio accanto alla finestra. Suonava molto bene, e qualche volta cantava. Cantava con il timbro rauco, incerto di un adolescente. Conosceva tutti i grandi successi, Cole Porter e Kurt Weill; le piacevano soprattutto le arie di Oklahoma! che erano nuove quell'estate e che si sentivano dappertutto. Ma c'erano momenti in cui cantava cose che vi facevano domandare dove poteva averle imparate, o da dove mai potevano venire. Strane arie dolci-amare con parole che sapevano di pini e di prateria. Una diceva: Don't wanna sleep, Don't wanna die, Just wanna go atravelin' trough the pastures of the sky; e questa sembrava piacerle più delle altre, perché continuava a ripeterla anche quando i capelli erano già asciutti, anche quando il sole era tramontato e le finestre si illuminavano nel crespuscolo.”

“Venezia è come mangiare un'intera scatola di cioccolata al liquore in una sola volta.”

“Le donne sono come le mosche, vanno sul miele o sulla merda.”

“Una sfinge senza segreti.”

“Monty era veramente dotato. Era serio soltanto su di una cosa, recitare.”

“[Sugli ultimi mesi di vita di Humphrey Bogart] Andai alcune volte. Andavano quasi tutti i suoi amici; qualcuno quasi tutti i giorni, Sinatra per esempio. Alcuni gli dimostrarono una grande lealtà. Era come se facesse uscire il meglio che c'era in loro. Guardarlo era tremendo, era così magro! Con gli occhi enormi, spaventati. Diventavano sempre più grandi, i suoi occhi. Ci leggevi la paura, l'autentica paura; eppure era quello di sempre, il solito spavaldo e coraggioso Bogart.”

“Non mi importa cosa la gente dice di me finché non è vero.”

“[Parlando di Mick Jagger] Si muove come una parodia tra una majorette e Fred Astaire.”

“E, a un tratto, accadde. Mentre guardavo i colori sfumati dei capelli di Holly balenare nella luce rosso-gialla delle foglie, l'amai abbastanza da dimenticare me stesso, le mie disperazioni egoistiche e da essere contento perché stava per succedere qualcosa che lei pensava felice.”

“Abitavo nella casa da circa una settimana quando notai che la casella dell'appartamento numero due era contrassegnata da un bigliettino perlomeno strano. Stampato con una certa eleganza formale, il biglietto diceva: Signorina Holiday Golightly, e sotto, in un angolo: in transito. Cominciò a perseguitarmi come una canzonetta: Signorina Holiday Golightly, in transito.”

“Conoscete la piccola da molto tempo?"
"Abito qui di sopra".
La mia risposta parve abbastanza esauriente da calmarlo. "Il vostro appartamento allora è eguale?"
"Molto più piccolo".
Scosse la cenere sul pavimento. "Questa è una topaia. Incredibile. Ma la piccola non sa stare al mondo nemmeno quando ha un mucchio di soldi." La sua voce aveva il timbro scattante, metallico, di una telescrivente. "Allora," domandò, "che ne pensate? Lo è o non lo è?"
"Che cosa non è?"
"Una montatura."
"Non ci ho mai pensato."
"Avete torto. È una montatura. Ma, in un altro senso, avete ragione. Non è una montatura perché è una montatura autentica. È convinta di tutte le idiozie in cui crede. Impossibile dissuaderla. Io ci ho provato, con le lacrime agli occhi. […] Provateci, qualche volta. Fatevi dire da lei qualcuna delle cose in cui crede. E intendiamoci bene" continuò, "mi è simpatica, la ragazzina. È simpatica a tutti, ma c'è anche moltissima gente che non la può sopportare. A me è simpatica. È simpatica davvero, la ragazzina. Sono sensibile, io, ecco perché. Bisogna essere sensibili per apprezzarla, bisogna avere una vena di poeta. Ma voglio dirvi la verità. Potete farvi a pezzi per lei, e lei vi servirà merda su un piatto.”

“[Sulla Sicilia] Tutto ciò che d'importante poteva capitarmi, accadde lì.”

“Comincia a gennaio la primavera siciliana, e via via che le piante fioriscono diventa il giardino di una maga: germoglia la menta sulle rive dei ruscelli, gli alberi morti si inghirlandano di rose canine, persino il brutale cactus mette teneri fiori. Quindi non mi fa paura l'arrivo dell'inverno: quale migliore prospettiva che quella di sedere davanti al fuoco ad aspettare la primavera?”

“Gente piccola […] non diversa dai giapponesi, ma di pelle bruna. Invero c'è qualcosa di voluttuoso nella loro liscia, lignea durezza.”

“The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call “out there.”

“It's a scientific fact that if you stay in California you lose one point of your IQ every year.”

“Finding the right form for your story is simply to realize the most natural way of telling the story. The test of whether or not a writer has divined the natural shape of his story is just this: after reading it, can you imagine it differently, or does it silence your imagination and seem to you absolute and final? As an orange is final. As an orange is something nature has made just right.”

“People who are having a love-sex relationship are continuously lying to each other because the very nature of the relationship demands that they do, because you have to make a love object of this person, which means that you editorialize about them. You know? You cut out what you don't want to see, you add this if it isn't there. And so therefore you're building a lie. But in a friendship you don't do that. You do exactly the reverse. You try more and more to be as completely pure and straight as you can be.”

“[You've said your material chooses you. ] That's the difference between the serious artist and the craftsman—-the craftsman can take material and because of his abilities do a professional job of it. The serious artist, like Proust, is like an object caught by a wave and swept to shore. He's obsessed by his material; it's like a venom working in his blood and the art is the antidote.”

“The true beloveds of this world are in their lover's eyes lilacs opening, ship lights, school bells, a landscape, remembered conversations, friends, a child's Sunday, lost voices, one's favorite suit, autumn and all seasons, memory, yes, it being the earth and water of existence, memory.”

“Disco is the best floor show in town. It's very democratic, boys with boys, girls with girls, girls with boys, blacks and whites, capitalists and Marxists, Chinese and everything else, all in one big mix.”

“Past certain ages or certain wisdoms it is very difficult to look with wonder; it is best done when one is a child; after that, and if you are lucky, you will find a bridge of childhood and walk across it.”

“Imagination, of course, can open any door - turn the key and let terror walk right in.”

“But my dear, so few things are fulfilled: what are most lives but a series of incomplete episodes”

“I thought that Mr. Clutter was a very nice gentleman. I thought so right up to the moment that I cut his throat.”

“Envy was constantly with him; the Enemy was anyone who was someone he wanted to be or who had anything he wanted to have.”

“It seemed odd to Joel that nature did not reflect so solemn an event: flowers of cotton-boll clouds within a sky as scandalously blue as kitten-eyes were offensive to their sweet disrespect.”

“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.”

“Writing has laws of perspective, of light and shade, just as painting does, or music. If you are born knowing them, fine. If not, learn them. Then rearrange the rules to suit yourself.”

“She beckoned to him, shining and silver, and he knew he must go: unafraid, not hesitating, he paused only at the garden's edge, as though he'd forgotten something, he stopped and looked back at the bloomless, descending blue, at the boy he had left behind.”

“In the disposition of capital cases in the United States, the median elapsed time between sentence and execution is approximately seventeen months. […] However, even an attorney of moderate talent can postpone doomsday year after year, for the system of appeals that pervades American jurisprudence amounts to a legalistic wheel of fortune […].”

“I ought at least to have made corporal. But I never did. Know why? Because the sergeant we had was tough. Because I wouldn't roll over. Jesus, I hate that stuff. I can't stand it. Though—I don't know. Some queers I really liked. As long as they didn't try anything. The most worthwhile friend I ever had, really sensitive and intelligent, he turned out to be queer.”

“She had said she was afraid of Perry, and she was, but was it simply Perry she feared, or was it a configuration of which he was part […]? The eldest, the brother she loved, had shot himself; Fern had fallen out of a window, or jumped; and Perry was committed to violence, a criminal.”

“All writing, all art, is an act of faith. If one tries to contribute to human understanding, how can that be called decadent? It's like saying a declaration of love is an act of decadence. Any work of art, provide it springs from a sincere motivation to further understanding between people, is an act of faith and therefore is an act of love.”

“A resident of over a hundred years in so narrow a world deserved higher homage.”

“Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.”

“There is considerable hypocrisy in conventionalism. Any thinking person is aware of this paradox; but in dealing with conventional people it is advantageous to treat them as though they were not hypocrites. It isn't a question of faithfulness to your own concepts; it is a matter of compromise so that you can remain an individual without the constant threat of conventional pressures.”

“The brain may take advice, but not the heart, and love, having no geography, knows no boundaries: weight and sink it deep, no matter, it will rise and find the surface: and why not? any love is natural and beautiful that lies within a person's nature; only hypocrites would hold a man responsible for what he loves, emotional illiterates and those of righteous envy, who, in their agitated concern, mistake so frequently the arrow pointing to heaven for the one that leads to hell.”

“Never trust a nigger: their minds and hair are full of kinks in equal measure.”