For some reason, people think of me as someone who can do anything I want. And I&#39;m not. You know, I need someone to put up the money.

Real love is composed of ecstasy and agony.

If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man, he would have made me so in the first place.

But it isn't hunger that drives millions of armed American Males to forests and hills every autumn, as the high incidence of heart failure among the hunters will prove. Somehow the hunting process has to do with masculinity, but I don't quite know how.

Written By John Steinbeck

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