In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.
John SteinbeckEvening of a hot day started the little wind to moving among the leaves. The shade climbed up the hills toward the top. On the sand banks the rabbits sat as quietly as little gray, sculptured stones.
John SteinbeckIf a story is not about the hearer, he will not listen. And here I make a ruleโa great and interesting story is about everyone or it will not last.
John Steinbeck