But in a story, which is a kind of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world.

These are really terribly rough times, and we really should try to be as nice to each other as possible.

It is a slightly arresting notion that if you were to pick yourself apart with tweezers, one atom at a time, you would produce a mound of fine atomic dust, none of which had ever been alive but all of which had once been you.

It was quite normal in that day for a man to use up three or four wives in a normal lifetime.

Written By John Steinbeck

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