Perry Smith Quotes

The walls of the cell fell away, the sky came down, I saw the big yellow bird.

I’ll be damned if I’m the only killer in the courtroom.

And it wasn't because of anything the Clutters did. They never hurt me. Like other people. Like people have all my life. Maybe it's just the Clutters were the ones that had to pay for it.

Sorrow and profound fatigue are at the heart of Dewey's silence. It had been his ambition to learn "exactly what happened in that house that night." Twice now he'd been told, and the two versions were very much alike, the only serious discrepancy being that Hickock attributed all four deaths to Smith, while Smith contended that Hickock had killed the two women. But the confessions, though they answered questions of how and why, failed to satisfy his sense of meaningful design. The crime was a psychological accident, virtually an impersonal act; the victims might as well have been killed by lightning. Except for one thing: they had experienced prolonged terror, they had suffered. And Dewey could not forget their sufferings. Nonetheless, he found it possible to look at the man beside him without anger - with, rather, a measure of sympathy - for Perry Smith's life had been no bed of roses but pitiful, an ugly and lonely progress toward one mirage and then another. Dewey's sympathy, however, was not deep enough to accommodate either forgiveness or mercy. He hoped to see Perry and his partner hanged - hanged back to back.

Be consistent in your attitude towards her and do not add anything to the impression she has that you are weak, not because you need her good-will but because you can expect more letters like this, and they can only serve to increase your already dangerous anti-social instincts.

He looked as lonely and innapropriate as a seagull in a wheat field.

rose. He walked around to the rear of Hickock’s chair, and placing his hands on the back of the chair, leaned down as though to whisper in the prisoner’s ear. “Perry Smith has no sister living in Fort Scott,” he said. “He never has had. And on Saturday afternoons the Fort Scott post office happens to be closed.” Then he said, “Think it over, Dick. That’s all for now. We’ll talk to you later.” After Hickock’s

In Cold Blood is the story of these six people—the [four] Clutters, who died together November 15, 1959, and Perry Smith and Richard Hickock, who were hanged April 14, 1965. And my book is the story of their lives and their deaths. It’s a completely factual account and every word is true. — Truman Capote, interviewed in A Visit with Truman Capote, Maysles Films, 1966 (alternate title: With Love From Truman).

Karl Smith’s Russian Tea Cakes (Pete’s favorite) 1 cup soft butter ½ cup sifted confectioners’ sugar 1 tsp vanilla 2¼ cups sifted all-purpose flour ¼ tsp salt ¾ finely chopped nuts (More confectioners’ sugar for finishing) Mix together thoroughly the butter, confectioners’ sugar and vanilla. Sift together the flour and salt and stir into the butter/sugar mixture. Add chopped nuts. Chill dough. Roll into one-inch balls and place them 2½ inches apart on an ungreased baking sheet. Bake at 400 degrees until set, but not brown—about 10 to 12 minutes. While still warm, roll in confectioners’ sugar. Cool. Roll in confectioners’ sugar again. Makes about 4 dozen 1½-inch cookies.

After a small examination that could be done while she slept, Nathaniel took her hand and stroked it ever so gently. “Miss Campbell? Miss Campbell, it’s Dr. Smith, I’m here to assess your condition.” Thomas drummed his fingers on his thigh. Nathaniel had better keep everything professional. Why did he have to look at her with such tender eyes? After another few seconds of agony, Thomas pushed his friend aside. “Let me do it.” Nathaniel stepped away and raised his hands, a laugh dancing in his expression. “By all means.” Thomas glared and shook his head at Nathaniel before turning his attentions on Eliza. “Eliza, wake up.” Thomas touched her slender shoulders, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth of her skin through the linen fabric of her clothing. He stroked her arm, gentle but still firm enough to wake her. “You can sleep again in a few minutes, but the doctor needs to speak to you. He wants to see how you’re healing.” Listless, she opened her eyes and turned her gaze at him. He didn’t miss the immediate sparkle that flashed over her face when she saw him, though he pretended it didn’t cause his heart to beat faster.

That fellow can make even I, the most courageous and stoic of gentleman, quiver in my boots.” Kitty’s stirring smile sprung to life, somehow bringing light to the entire room. “Quiver in your boots, Dr. Smith? I don’t believe it.” A carefree laugh tumbled out from deep in Nathaniel’s chest, chasing away the remaining bits of unease. “Aye, fair maiden, you have caught me. I never quiver.

I love you, Kitty. I love your virtue, your passion for good, your kindness and strength. I love the fire in your spirit and your yearning for right. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And more than anything I want you to know that you being a Tory—” “Stop.” Kitty placed a hand on his chest. A light from within glowed, warming her body with the brightness of truth. “Nathaniel, that’s what I wanted to tell you—one of the things I wanted to tell you after church this past Sunday. God spoke to me. He showed me the errors of my thinking and I know now, without a grain of doubt remaining, that your cause, the cause of freedom, is God’s cause.” She paused, and lifted her chin. “I’m a patriot.” Nathaniel’s dark brow narrowed and his head tipped slightly. He never moved his gaze and his mouth tightened. Kitty licked her lips and shifted her feet. She smiled, hoping such would coax a response from him. “Are you not pleased?”  His expression didn’t change and a surge of panic inched up her back. “I do hope you are not upset. Nathaniel, you must know I wouldn’t jest about something like this to entice you to say you love me—” Nathaniel swooped down, cutting off her words with a kiss that turned her knees to liquid. His warm breath on her face mixed with her own and she clung to his chest to keep from melting to the ground. He pressed her to him, smoothing his hands down her back and gripping her as if he wished to mold her to him forever. He broke away, breathing heavy. The brightness in his eyes matched the glistening of his lips. “Nay, I am not upset. I’m delighted to the point of utter disbelief. Though I do believe you Kitty, completely.” A deep, quiet chuckle rattled in his chest as he lowered his head. “And I must ask you to stop your bewitching ways, or I won’t be able to resist you as I should.” His eyes wandered to her mouth and he shook his head. “You never answered me.” “Never answered you?” “I asked you to be my wife. Am I to believe my feelings are not returned?” Kitty’s heart grew wings. “Do you believe they are not?” He stepped closer and nuzzled her ear with his nose as he whispered. “Marry me tomorrow, and let me begin to cherish you the way I desire to for the rest of my days. For I can no longer withhold my longing for you Kitty, not when I am consumed by so true a love.”  Ever so slowly, he trailed kisses at the edge of her hair and down to her mouth. His warm, possessive kiss removed every other thought from her mind. He directed her face upward and continued sharing his passion until he finally pulled away, staring at her with parted lips and hooded eyes. “Marry me?” His voice carried no louder than a prayer. She nodded, her throat too thick to make a sound.  He must have seen the unspoken answer in her tear-filled eyes. Tucking the stray hair around her ear he leaned closer. “Are you opposed to an afternoon wedding?” “Nay,” she whispered. Trailing a finger around her ear and down her neck, Nathaniel’s mouth twitched upward into a smile that whispered of delicious secrets to come. “I am glad to hear it. As of tomorrow night you will no longer be Miss Katherine Campbell. You will be my Mrs. Nathaniel Smith.

Bachelor visits library, books wife (nonfiction). --Michael Perry

I didn’t have anything against them and they never did anything wrong to me, the way other people have all my life. Maybe they’re just the ones who have to pay for it.

Fandom, in general, is a low-level kind of religion. Fans of Will Smith or Katy Perry or Elon Musk follow everything that person does, hang on every word he or she says, and come to see him or her as blessed or righteous in some way.

As we have just observed, Heine-Geldern claims for the megalithic civilizations a continuity extending from the fifth millennium down to the contemporary “primitive” societies. However, he rejects G. Elliot Smith’s and J. W. Perry’s pan-Egyptian hypothesis. In addition, he denies the existence of a “megalithic religion,” for the simple reason that certain “megalithic” beliefs and concepts are documented in connection with many religious forms, both elementary and higher. The Austrian scholar compares the megalithic complex with certain “mystical” movements—for example, Tantrism, which can be indifferently either Hindu or Buddhist.