For what seemed like a long time I stood leaning near the window, my eyes shut tight against the twilight. Maybe he is right, I thought, maybe all was for nothing, maybe worse than nothing, and all I´ve done was evil in the sight of God. Maybe he is right and God is dead and gone, which is why I can no longer reach him ... I opened my eyes again, looking out into the gloaming light, the woods where wild ducks skimmed southard against a sky as gray as smoke. Yes, I thought, maybe all this is true, otherwise why should God not heed me, why should he not answer?



from The Confessions of Nat Turner. Author William Styron was born on this date in 1925.



Here is a link to Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers Project, 1936-1938.