My whole work drive has been aimed at making people understand each other. . .
And their greed was for gold or God. They collected souls as they collected jewels.
A dying people tolerates the present, rejects the future, and finds its satisfactions in past greatness and half remembered glory
Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream.
It's almost impossible to read a fine thing without wanting to do a fine thing.
There is no term comparable to green thumbs to apply to such a mechanic, but there should be. For there are men who can look, listen, tap, make an adjustment, and a machine works.