The Prince of Tides

by Pat Conroy

Because of his enormous strength, there was something untouchable about his presence. He had the soul of a fortress and eyes that had peered at the world from battlements too long. He spoke his gospels and philosophies with his body alone. His injuries were all internal and I wondered if he would ever have to assess the extent of his wounds. I knew he would never understand our sister’s running war with the past and the long march of her private, inimitable demons through her daylight hours, nor did I think Savannah could appreciate the magnitude of Luke’s dilemma: the undermining responsibilities and duties of inarticulate strength. Luke acted when the heart cried out; the poetry in him was wordless. Luke was neither poet nor psychotic. He was a man of action, and that was the intolerable burden our family presented to him simply because he was born first of all.