“The desert takes our men from us, and they don’t always return,” she said. “We know that, and we are used to it. Those who don’t return become a part of the clouds, a part of the animals that hide in the ravines and of the water that comes from the earth. They become a part of everything . . . they become the Soul of the World.”
But in a way you can say that after leaving the sea, after all those millions of years of living inside the sea, we took the ocean with us. When a woman makes a baby, she gives it water, inside her body, to grow in. That water inside her body is almost exactly the same as the water of the sea. It is salty, by just the same amount. She makes a little ocean in her body. And not only this. Our blood and our sweating, they both salty, almost exactly like the water from the sea salty. We carry oceans inside of us, in our blood and our sweat. And we are crying the oceans, in our tears.
it’s the sweet, sweating smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it’s the sour, sweating smell of greed, which is the opposite of love
Says one time he went out in the wilderness to find his own soul, an’ he found he didn’t have no soul that was his’n. Says he foun’ he jus’ got a little piece of a great big soul. Says wilderness ain’t no good cause his little piece of soul wasn’t good ‘less it was with the rest, an’ was whole. Funny how I remember. Didn’ think I was even listening. But I know now a fella ain’t no good alone.
-the grapes of wrath, p 437
There was no system to soothe the unfairness of things; justice was without scope; it might snag the stealer of chickens, but great evasive crimes would have to be dismissed because, if identified and netted, they would bring the entire structure of so-called civilisation. For crimes that took place between two nations, for crimes that took place in those intimate spaces between two people without a witness, for these crimes the guilty would never pay. There was no religion and no government that would relieve people from this hell.
-The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai
What’s this call, this sperit? An’ I says, ‘It’s love. I love people so much I’m fit to bust, sometimes.’ An’ I says, ‘Don’t you love Jesus?’ Well, I thought an’ thought, an’ finally I says, ‘No I don’t know nobody name’ Jesus. I know a bunch of stories, but I only love people. An’ sometimes, I love ’em fit to bust, an’ I want to make ’em happy, so I been preachin’ somepin I thought would make em happy.
– the grapes of wrath, page 26