The Walls of Jericho quotes

Shine stared long into his third glass of ’scription liquor before he lifted it to his lips. Good whiskey is not like gin.

Gin makes you forget, good whiskey makes you remember.

Perhaps it was at the memories in this, his third glass of good whiskey, that Shine now stared. …

You are protecting not only the instrument but yourself and your partner at the other end. The soft edge of a cotton-bale won’t hurt a fellow’s foot—the hard one of a piano will break it.

A piano is a malicious thing; it loves to slip out of your grip and snap at your toes, with an evil chuckle inside.

Push up its lip and see it sneer; touch it and hear it rumble or whine. Ponderous, spiteful, treacherous live thing—a single spirit in a thousand bodies, one of which will crush you soon or late.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s easy to laugh now. But the fact is, it was tragedy.

Black triumph is always white tragedy.

We won—we won territory. All the fays had to get out, make way, make room for us. What did they do? Resist, of course—why the devil shouldn’t they? Clung to their district, tried to recover.

Court Avenue is a straight, thin spinster of a street which even in July is cold.

There is about it an air of arched eyebrows, of skirts drawn aside and comments made with a sniff. It is adorned in sparse, lean, scrawny maples, all suffering from malnutrition, and these tend to stress rather than relieve the hardness of dry, level pavements.

It is the sort of smile that goes with the words, “My dear! Can you imagine such a thing?” and you might suppose that the street was returning even the sun’s genial greeting and warm farewell with a disapproving sneer.

In short, Court Avenue is a snob of a street.

Yet it is somewhat to be pitied in its pretense at ignoring the punishment that is at hand: the terribly sure approach of the swiftly spreading Negro colony.

“Huh!

You lie wuss’n he do.

”

It had indeed. For fifteen years Miss Cramp had been devoting her life to the service of mankind.

Not until now had the startling possibility occurred to her that Negroes might be mankind, too.

The bare statement is extravagant; the fact is not. The only Negroes Miss Cramp had ever spoken to were porters, waiters, and house-servants of acquaintances. These were the only ones of whose existence she had been even remotely aware.

“

Well, they collect a dollar a year from everybody that joins, and whenever there’s a lynching down south they take the dollar and send somebody to go look at it.

”

“I don’t know, Miss Cramp.

Seems like they just want to make sure it really happened.

”

“

Well, nobody gets lynched here.

”

Here is every variation of skin-color, every variety of feature-form, every possible combination of these variations and varieties. And of course every imaginable result, from the most outrageous ugliness to the most extraordinary beauty.

Harlem is superlatively rich in diversity.

Accordingly Henry Patmore enjoyed almost boundless choice, and it was no mean tribute to Linda’s beauty that tonight his wandering eye fell and lingered upon her. He saw that she was with other girls and therefore probably unattended—legitimate prey.

“Judge. Hmph. Show me that judge.

I’m go’n’ give ’im sump’m to judge.

”

“Rain falling on banana leaves,” said the lady. And the gentleman assented, “I know how it is.

I once fell on a banana peel myself.

”

This acceptance of circumstance not with a shrug, like the Oriental, but with a characteristic grin. Nobody laughs at the miseries of life like the Negro. He laughs at himself, at his own pains and dangers and disappointments and oppressions.

He accepts things, not with resignation but with amusement.

That, it seems to me, should be a most alarming thing for his enemy to see.”

But it is true. It is not only possible—it must happen to all who would see things as they are.

Self-revelation is the supreme experience, the chief victory, of a man’s life.

In all the realm of the spirit, in all the Canaan of the soul, no conquest yields so miraculous a reward.

“

Ain’t talkin’ ’bout church. Talkin’ ’bout folks.

’Tain’t the church that makes the folks, it’s the folks that makes the church. Only trouble with church is, folks ain’t no ’count. All time kiddin’ themselves, jes’ like the man said this mornin’. He’s right. Take my girl. My girl kids herself sump’m terrible.

Hence his whole behavior took on a reckless vehemence, and whether he laughed or cursed, worked, drank, or gambled, he did so to excess.

Ordinarily he used two belts around an upright piano to be hoisted;

two belts surrounding the treacherous instrument near either lateral end, a cable joining either belt to a central metal ring.

plunged with a drive to crush and kill, like a beast pouncing on witless prey. The crash was like no other sound on earth—explosion, groan, and whine—thick wood, coarse metal, taut wires—a noise that struck and shattered itself, then rose, spread, and hovered.

It was as if a corner of hell had been blasted off and a thousand souls swarmed out, wailing.

Shine stood erect, looking dazedly about, touching an abrasion over one eye with exploratory fingers. And miraculous as a vision, Linda was before him, breathless with horror, apprehension, relief, with the effort of reaching him so quickly.

When eventually the sun’s grin faded out, it was as if a contemptuous amused observer had at last turned aside and gone off on more important business.

The house stood stark as a corpse in the shrouding dusk.

It was upon this scene that Shine came, less frantic now, but no less grim than when he had left the hospital earlier in the day.

“

You’re not hard or mean or tough or any of those things. You’re just scared.

”

“Scared.

Scared to admit you’re not hard. Scared you’ll be found out.

So scared, you take every chance you can to prove how hard you are. I don’t believe you’d ever do anything really cruel. Don’t believe it’s in you.”

Only then did she look fully at him, and again there were stars in her eyes, and color deep in the honey of her skin.

She gave him that little halting laugh and said, “The walls must be tumblin’ down.”

He wanted to tell her then about Merrit—how right she was. He wanted to tell her how completely she had dominated him these past days, all the newly realized illusion about himself that now was crumbling. He wanted to say “Walls? Tumblin’?

“

The guy that’s really hard is the guy that’s hard enough to be soft.

”

“Now there is something I can’t understand—how a Spaniard—he is a Spaniard isn’t he—how a Spaniard could become a native son of Ireland?”

“Well,” said Mary philosophically, “them things will happen, mum.”

“But I wonder, Mary—I wonder if your people don’t need help. Look at the way that McReeny starved to death. Something ought to be done. Isn’t there some organization that takes care of such matters?”

“But I wonder, Mary—I wonder if your people don’t need help. Look at the way that McReeny starved to death. Something ought to be done. Isn’t there some organization that takes care of such matters?”

“I think his family buried him all right,” Mary reassured her.

“No—no, Mary. You do not understand at all. What I mean is this. Here is a young and inexperienced newborn nation, planted on a little isle of the sea, and left quite alone, helpless.

“There!” said Miss Cramp triumphantly. “I knew it. Exactly what I thought, Mary. I must get in touch with them at once. Have they a phone, do you suppose?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they did, mum.”

“Very well, then. That will do, Mary. That’s all. When you come for the tray, bring the phone book, will you, Mary?”