“Then one day I started writing, not knowing that I had chained myself for life to a noble but merciless master.”
On this day in 1924, one of the greatest literary artists in American history was born. His fame, his sometimes frivolous and sometimes tragic public image, and his blatantly “queer” persona often blinded (and still blind) certain readers. Lost to them are the subtlety and finesse of his finest prose. To my mind, however, no one before or since has ever quite matched Truman Capote’s way with a sentence.