To finish is sadness to a writer — a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn’t really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done.
JOHN STEINBECKThere’s a responsibility in being a person. It’s more than just taking up space where air would be.
More John Steinbeck Quotes
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Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts, perhaps the fear of a loss of power.
JOHN STEINBECK -
People like you to be something, preferably what they are.
JOHN STEINBECK -
The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness.
JOHN STEINBECK -
It is the nature of man to rise to greatness if greatness is expected of him.
JOHN STEINBECK -
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.
JOHN STEINBECK -
Somewhere in the world there is a defeat for everyone. Some are destroyed by defeat, and some made small and mean by victory. Greatness lives in one who triumphs equally over defeat and victory.
JOHN STEINBECK -
Perhaps the best conversationalist in the world is the man who helps others to talk.
JOHN STEINBECK -
Socialism is just another form of religion, and thus delusional.
JOHN STEINBECK -
And finally, in our time a beard is the one thing that a woman cannot do better than a man, or if she can her success is assured only in a circus.
JOHN STEINBECK -
If you want to destroy a nation, give it too much – make it greedy, miserable and sick.
JOHN STEINBECK -
You can only understand people if you feel them in yourself.
JOHN STEINBECK -
You’re bound to get ideas if you go thinkin’ about stuff.
JOHN STEINBECK -
There’s a responsibility in being a person. It’s more than just taking up space where air would be.
JOHN STEINBECK -
The great companies did not know that the line between hunger and anger is a thin line.
JOHN STEINBECK -
Men do change, and change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass.
JOHN STEINBECK