Cannery Row (Cannery Row, #1)
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Read between August 2 - August 15, 2024
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He spoke a stately English without ever using the letter R.
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little group of men who had in common no families, no money, and no ambitions beyond food, drink, and contentment.
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She had tried every possible way of making money— paper flowers, mushrooms at home, rabbits for meat and fur—while her husband from a canvas chair gave her every help his advice and reasoning and criticism could offer.
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Hazel’s mind was choked with uncatalogued exhibits. He never forgot anything but he never bothered to arrange his memories.
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He had observed that a man got just as drunk on half a glass as on a whole one, that is, if he was in the mood to get drunk at all.
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Two generations of Americans knew more about the Ford coil than the clitoris,
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he even dabbled in the new practice of embalming bodies before they were buried. Some of the old-timers considered this sentimental and some thought it wasteful and to some it was sacrilegious since there was no provision for it in any sacred volume.
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Henri had so steeped himself in stories of the Left Bank in Paris that he lived there although he had never been there.
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There were people who felt virtuous about the affair who hadn’t had the material of virtue for a long time. The
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“The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success. And while men admire the quality of the first they love the produce of the second.”
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It’s all fine to say, “Time will heal everything, this too shall pass away. People will forget”—and things like that when you are not involved, but when you are there is no passage of time, people do not forget and you are in the middle of something that does not change.