Mention404632

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so:text Grieving, yet somehow unbending, steadfast, unafraid, the voice rose through the evening like memory, and a gust of wind blew up from the river, dimming the song, rustling the trees, then died and became still. I’ll lay in de grave and stretch out my arms … Suddenly the voice ceased, and all was quiet. Then what I done was wrong, Lord? I said. And if what I done was wrong, is there no redemption? I raised my eyes upward but there was no answer, only the gray impermeable sky and night falling fast over Jerusalem. (en)
so:isPartOf https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/William_Styron
so:description The Confessions of Nat Turner (1967) (en)
qkg:hasContext qkg:Context199154
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