'Pray, you. Pray, I tell ya.'

'Well, we're here. This here's California, an' she don't look so prosperous.'

'I ain't tryin' to preach no sermon, but I never seen nobody that's busy as a prairie dog collectin' stuff that wasn't disappointed.'

'...if it was the law they was workin' with, why, we could take it. But it ain't the law. They're a-workin' away at our spirits.'

'I seen pitchers once says a desert. They was bones every'place.'

'Come time we get to California I'll have a big bunch of grapes in my han' all the time, a-nibblin' off it all the time, by God!'

'I'm a ol' pig. Look! I'm a ol' pig. Look at the blood, Ruthie!'

'Yeah! My brother Tom. Better not fool with him. He killed a fella.'

'You gonna die out in the fiel' some day, Muley.'

'I'm tar'd out...I'm tard' a things happenin'. I wanta sleep. I wanta sleep.'

'Nothin' sets so still as a dove--on the fence wires--maybe two, side by side. An' this little whirlwin'--big as a man, an' dancin' off acrost a fiel'.'

'Why, Tom--us people will go on livin' when all them people is gone. Why, Tom, we're the people that live. They ain't gonna wipe us out. Why, we're the people--we go on.'