Our Father who art in nature, who has given the gift of survival to the coyote, the common brown rat, the English sparrow, the house fly and the moth, must have a great and overwhelming love for no-goods and blots-on-the-town and bums, and Mack and the boys. Virtues and graces and laziness and zest. Our Father who art in nature.

~ John Steinbeck

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And he didn't get tired or sleepy, for the beauty burned in him like fire.

~ John Steinbeck

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They swallowed, tasted their tongues, sucked their lips, and there was a far-away look in their eyes. Mack peered into his empty glass as though some holy message were written in the bottom. And then he raised his eyes. “You can’t say nothin’ about that,” he said. “They don’t put that in bottles.

~ John Steinbeck

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