John Steinbeck

John Steinbeck

John Ernst Steinbeck, Jr. (February 27, 1902 – December 20, 1968) was an American author of 27 books, including 16 novels, six non-fiction books, and two collections of short stories. The Pulitzer Prize-winning The Grapes of Wrath (1939) is considered Steinbeck's masterpiece and part of the American literary canon.

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The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true.

Four hoarse blasts of a ship's whistle still raise the hair on my neck and set my feet to tapping.

Sectional football games have the glory and the despair of war, and when a Texas team takes the field against a foreign state, it is an army with banners.

I am impelled not to squeak like a grateful and apologetic mouse but to roar like a lion out of pride in my profession.

One can find so many pains when the rain is falling.

It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world.

No one wants advice - only corroboration.

Many a trip continues long after movement in time and space have ceased.

Give a critic an inch he'll write a play.

If you're in trouble or hurt or need - go to the poor people. They're the only ones that'll help - the only ones.

Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them and pretty soon you have a dozen.

Writers are a little below clowns and a little above trained seals.

I have owed you this letter for a very long time-but my fingers have avoided the pencil as though it were an old and poisoned tool.

I've lived in good climate and it bores the hell out of me. I like weather rather than climate.

So in our pride we ordered for breakfast an omelet toast and coffee, and what has just arrived is a tomato salad with onions, a dish of pickles, a big slice of watermelon, and two bottles of cream soda.

I have come to believe that a great teacher is a great artist and that there are as few as there are any other great artists. Teaching might even be the greatest of the arts since the medium is the human mind and spirit.

A journey is a person in itself, no two are alike. And all plans safeguards policing and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip, a trip takes us.

No man really knows about other human beings. The best he can do is to suppose that they are like himself.

It is true that we are weak and sick and ugly and quarrelsome but if that is all we ever were we would millenniums ago have disappeared from the face of the earth.

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

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