Hell Yes, John Steinbeck

Posts tagged the grapes of wrath

Google Doodle for John Steinbeck’s 112th Birthday (February 27, 2014): The Grapes of Wrath

We’ve got a bad thing made by men, and by God that’s something we can change.

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck (via heartquake-ing)

It’s not like lightning or earthquakes. We’ve got a bad thing made by men, and by God that’s something we can change.

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath (via capitalistautomaton)

And always, if he had a little money, a man could get drunk. The hard edges gone, and the warmth. Then there was no loneliness, for a man could people his brain with friends, and he could find his enemies and destroy them. Sitting in a ditch, the earth grew soft under him. Failures dulled and the future was no threat. And hunger did not skulk about, but the world was soft and easy, and a man could reach the place he started for. The stars came down wonderfully close and the sky was soft. Death was a friend, and sleep was death’s brother. The old times came back—a girl with pretty feet, who danced one time at home—a horse—a long time ago. A horse and a saddle. And the leather was carved. When was that? Ought to find a girl to talk to. That’s nice. Might lay with her, too. But warm here. And the stars down so close, and sadness and pleasure so close together, really the same thing. Like to stay drunk all the time. Who says it’s bad? Who dares to say it’s bad? Preachers—but they got their own kinda drunkenness. Thin, barren women, but they’re too miserable to know. Reformers—but they don’t bite deep enough into living to know. No—the stars are close and dear and I have joined the brotherhood of the worlds. And everything’s holy—everything, even me.

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

‘Funny thing how it is. If a man owns a little property, that property is him, it’s part of him, and it’s like him. If he owns property only so he can walk on it and handle it and be sad when it isn’t doing well, and feel fine when the rain falls on it, that property is him, and some way he’s bigger because he owns it. Even if he isn’t successful he’s big with his property. That is so.’

‘But let a man get property he doesn’t see, or can’t take time to get his fingers in, or can’t be there to walk on it - why, then the property is the man. He can’t do what he wants, he can’t think what he wants. The property is the man, stronger than he is. And he is small, not big. Only his possessions are big - and he’s the servant of his property. That is so, too.’

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath (via user)

You’re buying years of work, toil in the sun; you’re buying a sorrow that can’t talk. But watch it, mister. There’s a premium goes with this pile of junk and the bay horses - so beautiful - a packet of bitterness to grow in your house and to flower, some day.

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck (via listenforthatcrazywind)

… But I am assailed with my own ignorance and inability. I’ll just have to work from a background of these. Honesty. If I can keep an honesty it is all I can expect of my poor brain…. If I can do that it will be all my lack of genius can produce. For no one else knows my lack of ability the way I do. I am pushing against it all the time.

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath (via jordanblock)

odourofhoneysuckle:

They’s a time of change, an’ when that comes, dyin’ is a piece of all dyin’, and bearin’ is a piece of all bearin’, an’ bearin’ an’ dyin’ is two pieces of the same thing. An’ then things ain’t so lonely anymore. An’ then a hurt don’t hurt so bad.

- John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

To the red country and part of the gray country of Oklahoma, the last rains came gently, and they did not cut the scarred earth. The plows crossed and recrossed the rivulet marks. The last rains lifted the corn quickly and scattered weed colonies and grass along the sides of the roads so that the gray country and the dark red country began to disappear under a green cover.

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck (via faredisfare)

The causes lie deeply and simply—the causes are a hunger in a stomach, multiplied a million times; a hunger in a single soul, hunger for joy and some security, multiplied a million times; muscles and mind aching to grow, to work, to create, multiplied a million times. The last clear definite function of man—muscles aching to work, minds aching to create beyond a single need—this is man. To build a wall, to build a house, a dam, and in the wall and house and dam to put something of Manself, and to Manself take back something of the wall, the house, the dam; to take hard muscles from the lifting, to take clear lines and form from conceiving. For man, unlike any other thing organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond his work, walks up the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments. This you may say of man—when theories change and crash, when schools, philosophies, when narrow dark alleys of thought, national, religious, economic, grow and disintegrate, man reaches, stumbles forward, painfully, mistakenly sometimes. Having stepped forward, he may slip back, but only half a step, never the full step back. This you may say and know it and know it.

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wratho (via iwastoldbyjesusallwaswell)

lifeiswine:

Sure, cried the tenant men, but it’s our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it, and we got killed on it, died on it. Even if it’s no good, it’s still ours. That’s what makes it ours - being born on it, working on it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.

—John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
I was mean like a wolf. Now I’m mean like a weasel. When you’re huntin’ somepin you’re a hunter, an’ you’re strong. Can’t nobody beat a hunter. But when you get hunted- that’s different. Somepin happens to you. You ain’t strong; maybe you’re fierce, but you ain’t strong.

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck (via listenforthatcrazywind)

Sometimes a sad man can talk the sadness right out through his mouth.

John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath (via listenforthatcrazywind)

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