I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.
Truman CapoteRead
I've tried to believe, but I don't, I can't, and there's no use pretending.
Interpretation
The quote expresses a struggle with belief and authenticity, highlighting the futility of pretending.
Truman Capote's quote encapsulates the internal conflict of wanting to believe in something but ultimately failing to do so. This struggle can be a source of pain, as the individual recognizes the dissonance between their desires and their true feelings, leading to a refusal to engage in pretense, which can be a crucial moment of genuine self-awareness.
In practice
In a discussion about personal integrity, one might use this quote to highlight the importance of being true to oneself.
I want to still be me when I wake up one fine morning and have breakfast at Tiffany´s.
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.
No one will ever know what 'In Cold Blood' took out of me. It scraped me right down to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.
Hot weather opens the skull of a city, exposing its white brain, and its heart of nerves, which sizzle like the wires inside a lightbulb. And there exudes a sour extra-human smell that makes the very stone seem flesh-alive, webbed and pulsing.
I don't want to own anything until I find a place where me and things go together.
The quietness of his tone italicized the malice of his reply.
I am not a Catholic; but I consider the Christian idea, which has its roots in Greek thought and in the course of the centuries has nourished all of our European civilization, as something that one cannot renounce without becoming degraded.
Assure a man that he has a soul and then frighten him with old wives' tales as to what is to become of him afterward, and you have hooked a fish, a mental slave.
I feel closer ties and more intimate bonds with certain characters in books, with certain images I’ve seen in engravings, than with many supposedly real people with the metaphysical absurdity known as ‘flesh and blood’. In fact, ‘flesh and blood’ describes them very well: they resemble cuts of meat laid out on the butcher’s marble slab, dead creatures bleeding as though still alive.
Not just in China, but everywhere in the world without exception, one either leans to the side of imperialism or the side of socialism. Neutrality is mere camouflage; a third road does not exist.
Death, after all, is the common expectation from birth. Neither heroes nor cowards can escape it.
A billion years or so into eternity, how many toys we accumulated during this life will not seem too terribly important.
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