The Prince of Tides

by Pat Conroy

In family matters you can get over anything. That’s one thing you’ll learn as an adult. There’s a lot you have to learn which is a lot worse than that. You’d never think of forgiving a friend for some of the things your parents did to you. But with friends it’s different. Friends aren’t the roll of the dice.”

“I’ve never done one thing in my life that makes me deserve to burn in hell for all eternity. Any god that does that isn’t deserving of the name. I’ve tried hard to live an interesting life and I don’t see any harm that comes from that.”

“Remember, Tom, whenever you consider what makes up an interesting life, think of this. When your grandpa was cutting hair and your mom and dad were picking crabs and heading shrimp, I was coming through the Khyber Pass, riding into Afghanistan disguised as an Afghan warrior. I’m probably the only person you’ll meet who’s ever done that.”

Their grandfather probably thinks he let a good life; it's kind of subjective and if the person is willing to go further than what they know

I turned and saw Luke laughing at some remark that Savannah had made and I felt the flow of her long hair against my cheek and the sweet smell of that hair, and I filled up with a perfect, ineffable love of my brother and sister, a love so vivid and powerful I could taste it on my tongue and feel its glorious heat burn deeply in my chest. Leaning over, I kissed Savannah on the neck and I squeezed Luke’s shoulder with my left hand. He reached up and squeezed my hand, then surprised me by taking my hand and bringing it to his lips in a gesture of surpassing tenderness.

The love these three sibilings have for each other is remarkable and wonderful

The white porpoise comes to me at night, singing in the river of time, with a thousand dolphins in radiant attendance, bringing charismatic greetings from the Prince of Tides, calling out our name: Wingo, Wingo, Wingo. It is enough, Lord. It is enough.