To California or any place- every one a drum major leading a parade of hurts, marching with our bitterness. And some day- the armies of bitterness will all be going the same way. And they'll all walk together, and there'll be a dead terror from it.
And Ruthie whispered, "Tha's grandpa, an' he's dead." Winfield nodded solemenly. "he ain't breathin' at all. he's awful dead."
"Well," says Casy, "for anybody else it was a mistake, but if you think it was a sin - then it's a sin. A fell builds his own sins right up from the groun'."
I'll be all around in the dark - I'll be everywhere. Wherever you can look - wherever there's a fight, so hungry people can eat, I'll be there. Wherever there's a cop beatin' up a guy, I'll be there. I'll be there in the way guys yell when they're mad. I'll be there in the way kids laugh when they're hungry and they know supper's ready, and when people are eatin' the stuff they raise and livin' in the houses they built - I'll be there, too.
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, nation, religious, economic, grow and disintegrate, man reaches stumbles forward, painfully, mistaken 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. This you may know when the bombs plummet out of the black planes on the marketplace, when prisoners are stuck like pigs, when the curshed bodies drain filthily in the dust. You may know it in this way. If the step were not being taken, if the stumbling-forward ache were not alive the bombs would not fall, the throats would not be cut. Fear the time when the bombs stop falling while the bombers live - for every bomb is proof that the spirit has not died ... And this you can know - fear the time when Manself will not suffere and die for a concept, for this one quality is the foundation of Manself, and this one quality is man, distinctive in the universe.
Tom grinned. ìIt donít take no nerve to do somepin when there ainít nothiní else you can do.î
Men who have created new fruits in the world cannot create a system whereby their fruits may be eaten. And the failure hangs over the State like a great sorrow . . . . and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.
"And the great owners, who must lose their land in an upheaval, the great owners with acess to history, with eyes to read history and to know the reat fact: when property accumulates in too few hands it is taken away. And that companion fact: when a majority of the people are hungry and cold they will take by force what they need. And the little screaming fact that sounds through all history: repression works only to strengthen and knit the repressed. The great owners ignored the three cries of history. The land fell into fewer and fewer hands, the number of dispossessed increased, and every effort of the great owners was directed at repression."
"If you're in trouble or hurt or needógo to poor people. They're the only ones that'll helpóthe only ones"
Grampa walked up and slapped Tom on the chest, and his eyes grinned with affection and pride. "How are ya, Tommy?" "O.K.," said Tom. "How ya keepin' yaself?" "Full a piss an' vinegar," said Grampa.
"In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage."