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Quote by Anthony T. Hincks

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Anthony T. Hincks

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“Walking causes a repetitive, spontaneous poetry to rise naturally to the lips, words as simple as the sound of footsteps on the road. There also seems to be an echo of walking in the practice of two choruses singing a psalm in alternate verses, each on a single note, a practice that makes it possible to chant and listen by turns. Its main effect is one of repetition and alternation that St Ambrose compared to the sound of the sea: when a gentle surf is breaking quietly on the shore the regularity of the sound doesn’t break the silence, but structures it and renders it audible. Psalmody in the same way, in the to-and-fro of alternating responses, produces (Ambrose said) a happy tranquillity in the soul. The echoing chants, the ebb and flow of waves recall the alternating movement of walking legs: not to shatter but to make the world’s presence palpable and keep time with it. And just as Claudel said that sound renders silence accessible and useful, it ought to be said that walking renders presence accessible and useful.”

“I thought about all of the times, growing up, when I had sat in class and heard a white classmate say, "Well, my ancestors didn't own slaves," or heard a political commentator on television say, "Why are we still talking about slavery? People need to get over it." Or a politician say, "We can't wallow in the past. It's time to focus on the future." When I hear these deflections, I think of all the ways this country attempts to smother conversations about how its past has shaped its present. How slavery is made to sound as if it happened in a prehistoric age instead of only a few generations ago.”

“There's only you, Violence. Is that what you needed to hear?' I nod. 'Even when I'm not with you, there's only you. Next time just ask. You've never had a problem being bluntly honest with me.' Wind blows around us, but he's as immovable as the parapet itself. 'As I remember, you've even thrown daggers at my head, which I greatly prefer over watching you get tangled up in your thoughts. If you're going to do this, then we have to trust each other.' 'And you want to do this?' I hold my breath. He sighs, long and hard, then admits, 'Yes.' His hands slides up and caresses my cheek with his thumb. 'I can't make you any promises, Violence. But I'm tired of fighting it.' 'Yes.' One word has never meant so much to me.”