grapes-of-wrath

The one-eyed man watched them go, and then he went through the iron shed to his shack behind. It was dark inside. He felt his way to the mattress on the floor, and he stretched out and cried in his bed, and the cars whizzing by on the highway only strengthened the walls of his loneliness.

I seen hundreds of men come by on the road an_ on the ranches, with their bindles on their back an_ that same damn thing in their heads . . . every damn one of __m__ got a little piece of land in his head. An_ never a God damn one of __m ever gets it. Just like heaven. Ever__ody wants a little piece of lan_. I read plenty of books out here. Nobody never gets to heaven, and nobody gets no land.