Being at ease with himself put him at ease with the world.

The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness.

I'm back with my own kind of people here now, the bums and drinkers and no goods and it is a fine thing.

I wish to God I knew as much about writing as I did when I was 19. I was absolutely certain about most things then. Also, I suspect, more accurate.

In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.

It is not enough to say that we cannot know or judge because all the information is not in. The process of gathering knowledge does not lead to knowing. A child's world spreads only a little beyond his understanding while that of a great scientist thrusts outward immeasurably. An answer is invariably the parent of a great family of new questions. So we draw worlds and fit them like tracings against the world about us, and crumple them when we find they do not fit and draw new ones.

In my heart there may be doubt that I deserve the Nobel award over other men of letters whom I hold in respect and reverence, but there is no question of my pleasure and pride in having it for myself.