We wait for the tortoises to come. We wait for that lady who walks them. Thatโs how art works. Itโs never a jackrabbit, or a racehorse. Itโs the tortoises that hold all the secrets. Weโve got to be patient enough to wait for them.
Pat ConroyWe children sat transfixed before that moon our mother had called forth from the waters. When the moon had reached its deepest silver, my sister, Savannah, though only three, cried aloud to our mother, to Luke and me, to the river and the moon, "Oh, Mama, do it again!" And I had my earliest memory.
Pat Conroy