Evening 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 SteinbeckThe words are meaningless except in terms of feeling. Does anyone act as the result of thought or does feeling stimulate action and sometimes thought implement it.
John SteinbeckI'm back with my own kind of people here now, the bums and drinkers and no goods and it is a fine thing.
John SteinbeckIn the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.
John Steinbeck