The Prince of Tides

by Pat Conroy

The priest knelt beside my father and they prayed together, priest and warrior transfigured by moonlight, by warfare, destiny, and the urgent, mysterious, and ineffable cries and secrets of souls turned inward upon themselves.

My violence was subterranean, unbeheld. It was my silence, my long withdrawals, that I had turned into dangerous things. My viciousness manifested itself in the terrible winter of blue eyes. My wounded stare could bring an ice age into the sunniest, balmiest afternoon. I was about to be thirty-seven years old, and with some aptitude and a little natural ability, I had figured out how to live a perfectly meaningless life, but one that could imperceptibly and inevitably destroy the lives of those around me.

Her secret, we would discover, was that once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers, that the mind can never break off from the journey.

Savannah never believed that Norton was an agent of Satan; she claimed he was just Presbyterian.

Are you always so paranoid?” “Yes,” she said. “I’ve always found paranoia to be a perfectly defensible position.”

I would like to have seen the world with eyes incapable of anything but wonder, and with a tongue fluent only in praise.

“But I’m old-fashioned in other ways. I simply love being a woman. I like to have doors held open for me and a gentleman to hold my chair when I’m being seated. I’m not a bra-burner, nor do I believe in the Equal Rights Amendment. I’ve always thought women were far superior to men and I never want to do anything to make a man think he could be my equal. Now, please light my cigarette.”

“I once read that when the concept of common law first began in England, the king himself was not allowed to cross the threshold of the poorest peasant’s house without permission. I’m claiming for all of us that the king shall not cross our thresholds. The son of a bitch just wasn’t invited.”

“Why are you making it so hard for us to part as friends?” I asked. “Because I want you to stay with me, Tom,” she said. “I think you love me and I’m certain I love you and I think we have a chance to make each other happy for the rest of our lives.” “I couldn’t make anybody happy for the rest of their life,” I said. “Everything you say is only an excuse to leave me,” she said, snatching up the menu suddenly and studying it carefully so our eyes did not have to meet. Then she said, “What’s the worst thing on this menu? That’s what I want to order.” “Someone recommended pig’s anus tartare,” I said. “Do not even try to make me laugh tonight,” she said, her face hidden by the menu. “This is the night you’re leaving me for another woman.” “The other woman happens to be my wife,” I said. “Why did you let it go so far between us,” she said, “if you knew, in the end, you’d return to Sallie?” “I didn’t know that,” I said. “I thought we might be together forever.” “What happened?” “My character rose to the surface,” I said. “I didn’t have the courage to leave my wife and children to make a new life with you. It’s just not in me. You’ll have to forgive me, Lowenstein. One part of me wants you more than anything else in the world. The other part of me is terrified of any major change in my life. That’s the strongest part.” “But you love me, Tom,” she said. “I didn’t know it was possible to be in love with two women at the same time.” “Yet you chose Sallie.” “I chose to honor my own h...

“If you liked me enough, Tom … ” “No, Lowenstein. I adore you. You’ve changed my life. I’ve felt like a whole man again. An attractive man. A sensual one. You’ve made me face it all and you made me think I was doing it to help my sister.” “So this is how the story ends,” she said. “I believe so, Lowenstein,” I answered.