Cannery Row (Cannery Row, #1)

by John Steinbeck

If a man ordered a beer milk shake, he thought, he’d better do it in a town where he wasn’t known.

A man with a beard was always a little suspect anyway.

Richard cupped his hands again. “How—how do you—go to the toilet?” “I’ve got a can up here,” said the voice.

Cannery Row, like every place else, is not superstitious but will not walk under a ladder or open an umbrella in the house.

But most people in Cannery Row simply do not believe in such things and then live by them.

The rowing machine was in fine condition. No one had rowed it much. No one ever uses a rowing machine.