The Corner: A Year in the Life of an Inner-City Neighbourhood (Canons)

by David Simon

Not every lie need be believed; some are spoken simply as a formality.

The corner is rooted in human desire—crude and certain and immediate. And the hard truth is that all the law enforcement in the world can’t mess with desire.

Where once a competent street dealer would never be caught touching the dope, the more brainless of his descendants

the quickest way to put a nigger to sleep is to put a book in his hands.

pole star by which a thousand other fiends can compass their position in life.

You can’t lose what you never had, he tells himself; you cannot win if you do not play.

It’s hell getting the God’s honest truth out of your mouth when the damn thing is wrapped up in lies.

As with all great journeys, it begins with a simple willingness, with an abiding faith in the unknown.

To them, he had no history, no beginning, nothing beyond the here-and-now. To them, he was a dope fiend, nothing more. He knew how this sounded, too, how little white folk wanted to hear the complaint.

“When one starts to climb out, the others drag him back down.”

they know with a certainty to rival the faith of any religion that no one will miss his daily blast.

Only if you’re willing to destroy the village can you be absolutely assured of saving