Quotes from John Steinbeck

The names of places carry a charge of the people who named them.

The essence of pearl mixed with essence of men and a curious dark residue was precipitated.

Her face looked for the answer that is always concealed in language.

And I am sure that, as all pendulums reverse their swing, so eventually will the swollen cities rupture like dehiscent wombs and disperse their children back to the countryside.

A bribed man can only hate his briber. When this man died the nation rang with praise and, just beneath, with gladness that he was dead.

Why, Jesus, they're as dangerous as niggers in the South! If they ever get together there ain't nothin' that'll stop 'em.

It's nice for a mediocre man to know that greatness must be the loneliest state in the world.

Lead 'em around and around,'' said Joad. "Sling 'em in the irrigation ditch. Tell 'em they'll burn in hell if they don't think like you. What the hell you want to lead 'em someplace for? Jus' lead 'em.

Sir Lyonel knew that this sleeping knight would charge to his known defeat with neither hesitation nor despair and finally would accept his death with courtesy and grace as though it were a prize. And suddenly Sir Lyonel knew why Lancelot would gallop down the centuries, spear in rest, gathering men's hearts on his lance head like tilting rings. He chose his side and it was Lancelot's. He brushed a dungfly from the sleeping face.

To attempt to force them into a peonage of starvation and intimidated despair will be unsuccessful. They can be citizens of the highest type, or they can be an army driven by suffering and hatred to take what they need. On their future treatment will depend which course they will be forced to take.

Just set one day's work in front of the last day's work. That's the way it comes out. And that's the only way it does.

If he needs a million acres to make him feel rich, seems to me he needs it 'cause he feels awful poor inside hisself, and if he's poor inside hisself, there ain't no million acres gonna make him feel rich, an' maybe he's disappointed that nothin' he can do'll make him feel rich

The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or a breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil.

Homicide thats a big word means i killed a guy. seven years. im sprung in four for keep'n my nose clean. (18) the hich hiker is saying this to the truck driver and i think it puts alot of meanning to the book because the truck driver just realized that he could have just died. it adds suspense to the story and makes it kinda scary.

The preacher said, "She looks tar'd.'' "Women's always tar'd,'' said Tom. "That's just the way women is, 'cept at meetin' once an' again.

It's a good thing to be loved, even late.

My son will read and open the books, and my son will write and will know writing. And my son will make numbers, and these things will make us free because he will know - he will know and through him we will know.

What makes Travels with Charley so readily accessible to even the most casual reader is the deft evocation of the natural world, the colors and textures of leaves on the trees, the rich smells of earth, the slur of rain on pavement, the sharp rays of the sun as they pillar through a scud of clouds. Indeed, one can hardly open a page of this book without stumbling upon some bright image from nature.

Cathy spoke very quietly. "Adam, I didn't want to come here. I am not going to stay here. As soon as I can I will go away.

Liza with her acceptance could take care of tragedy; she had no real hope this side of Heaven.

There was the hills, an' there was me, an' we wasn't separate no more. We was one thing. An' that one thing was holy.

I remember thinking how wise a man was HC Andersen. The king told his secrets down a well, and his secrets were safe. A man who tells secrets or stories must think of who is hearing or reading, for a story has as many versions as it has readers. Everyone takes what he wants or can from it and thus changes it to his measure. Some pick out parts and reject the rest, some strain the story through their mesh of prejudice. Some paint it with their own delight.

I don't think they's luck or bad luck. On'y one thing in this worl' I'm sure of, an' that's I'm sure nobody got a right to mess with a fella's life. He got to do it all hisself. Help him, maybe, but not tell him what to do.

The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or a breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil. Naturally