Tell about the South. What’s it like there. What do they do there. Why do they live there. Why do they live… — William Faulkner

She accepted that—not reconciled: accepted-- as though there is a breathing-point in outrage where you can accept it almost with gratitude since you can say to yourself, Thank God that is all; at least I know it all.

You are my brother.

No I'm not. I'm the nigger that's going to sleep with your sister. Unless you stop me, Henry.

... but one mistake; that alertness for measuring and weighing event against eventuality, circumstance against human nature, his own fallible judgement and mortal clay against not only human but natural forces, choosing and discarding, compromising with his dream and his ambition like you must with the horse which you take across country, over timber, which you control only through your ability to keep the animal from realising that actually you cannot, that actually it is the stronger.