“Here were these men from the town, having eaten and drunk, standing beside him whose children were starving and eating the very earth of the fields; here they were, come to squeeze his land from him in his extremity.”
“In the Basque country the land all looks very rich and green and the houses and villages look well-off and clean… the houses in the villages had red tiled roofs, and then the road turned off and commenced to climb and we were going way up close along a hillside, with a valley below and hills stretched off back toward the sea.”
“It was a good morning, there were high white clouds above the mountains. It had rained a little in the night and it was fresh and cool on the plateau, and there was a wonderful view. We all felt good and we felt healthy, and I felt quite friendly to Cohn. You could not be upset about anything on a day like that. That was the last day before the fiesta.”
“Look all over the world and you won’t find friendlier people or fresher air or sweeter drinking water.” […] “I could go to Denver at triple the salary, but I’ve got five kids and I figure there’s no better place to raise kids than right here.”
“Grandma’s house was the last one in town. Next to the row of glads was a woven-wire fence, and on the other side of that a cornfield. On the first nights I’d always lie up in bed, listening to the husky whisper of the dry August corn in the fields. Then on the second night I wouldn’t hear anything.”
“Got a new pet?” I inquired.
“Chicago people have pets,” she said. “But there’s a new litter living down in the cobhouse now, and I let ‘em. They keep down the vermin. Don’t need all of them though.”