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“When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.”
– Dom Helder Camara

To read Camara’s famous ‘Spiral of Violence’ short, go

“Art for art’s sake is an empty phrase. Art for the sake of truth, art for the sake of the good and the beautiful, that is the faith I am searching for.”
– George Sand

I was reading, and felt like sharing this fine bit from the book:

“In the time it takes a famished man to eat an apple, his short life flickered past him. Boyhood in the hills about the farm. Beating the olives off the trees with long sticks. Gathering in the grape harvest, the round black fruit as big as walnuts, a broken ecstasy in the month on hot, dust-filled days. That scent of thyme on the slopes, and the wild garlic down by the river. And the river itself – plunging into its clean bite at the end of the grimy day with his father wiping wine from his mouth on the bank, talking of oil-pressing with old Vasio. The way Zori fed the fire in the evenings, twig by twig, the barley-cakes hardening on the griddle above it and the smell filling the house.
Rictus closed his eyes for a second and gave thanks to Antimone for the memories, the sight and smell of them. He put them away in a new corner of his mind that he had found, and when his eyes opened again they were dry and cold as those of a man just back from war.”

The quote is taken from the book, ‘the Ten Thousand’, by Irish author Paul Kearney.

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