"But I do feel strange-almost unearthly. I'll never get used to being alive. It's a mystery. Always startled to find I've survived."
John Steinbeck, Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters
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There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.
John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
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And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
John Steinbeck, East of Eden
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And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
John Steinbeck, East of Eden
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I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.
-- John Steinbeck
(London)
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And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
John Steinbeck, East of Eden
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…Maybe everybody in the whole damn world is scared of each other.
John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men
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“All great and precious things are lonely.”
—John Steinbeck, East of Eden
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Maybe everybody in the whole damn world is scared of each other.
John Steinbeck
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And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
John Steinbeck
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She wasn’t happy, but then she wasn’t unhappy. She wasn’t anything. But I don’t believe anyone is a nothing. There has to be something inside, if only to keep the skin from collapsing.
John Steinbeck; Travels with Charley
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