When the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys.He becomes a sort of hollow,posing dummy,the conventional figure of a sahib.For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives",and so in every crisis he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him.He wears a mask and his face grows to fit it.

When you repeat a mistake, it is not a mistake anymore: it is a decision.

Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.

Walking the streets of Charleston in the late afternoons of August was like walking through gauze or inhaling damaged silk.

Written By Pat Conroy

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