With all our horrors and faults, somewhere in us there is a shining. - John Steinbeck

"There's a capacity for apetite," Samuel said, "that a whole heaven and earth of cake can't satisfy"

But you can't start. Only a baby can start. You and me - why, we're all that's been. The anger of a moment, the thousand pictures, that's us. This land, this red land, is us; and the flood years and the dust years and the drought years are us. We can't start again. The bitterness we sold to the junk man - he got it all right, but we have it still. And when the owner men told us to go, that's us; and when the tractor hit the house, that's us until we're dead. 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.

You're not buying only junk, you're buying junked lives. And more - you'll see - you're buying bitterness.