“He who walks out of step hears another drum.”

“He Who Marches Out Of Step Hears Another Drum”

“Hank was walking barefoot up the dock, carrying his sweatshirt over a freckled shoulder and his boots clamped between thumb and finger of that maimed hand. Lee marveled at the scamper of small muscles across the narrow white back, at the swing of the arms and the lift of the neck. Did it take that much muscle just to walk, or was Hank showing off his manly development? Every moment constituted open aggression against the very air through which Hank passed. He doesn't just breathe, Lee decided, listening to Hank's broken-nosed puffing, he gobbles the oxygen. He doesn't just walk; he consumes distance step by carnivorous step. Open aggression is what it is all right, he concluded. Yet couldn't help but notice the way those shoulders seemed to savor the swing of the arms, or the way those feel relished the feel of the dock. These people...am I one of these people?”

“His whole body shakes with the strain as he tries to lift something he knows he can't lift, something everybody knows he can't lift.But, for just a second, when we hear the cement grind at our feet, we think, by golly, he might do it.”

“But he won’t let the pain blot out the humor no more’n he’ll let the humor blot out the pain.”

“He's the sort of guy that gets a laugh out of people.”

“He knows you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance... He knows there's a painful side, but he won't let the pain blot out the humor no more'n he'll let the humor blot out the pain.”