East Of Eden Quotes by John Steinbeck, Tom Robbins and many others.
And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
There is one sure thing about the fall of gods: they do not fall a little; they crash and shatter.
You must not forget that a monster is only a variation, and that to a monster the norm is monstrous.
But I have a new love for that glittering instrument, the human soul. It is a lovely and unique thing in the universe. It is always attacked and never destroyed – because ‘Thou mayest.
No one who is young is ever going to be old.
Sometimes a kind of glory lights up the mind of a man.
Some men are friends with the whole world in their hearts, and there are others that hate themselves and spread their hatred around like butter on hot bread.
It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.
Maybe– maybe love makes you suspicious and doubting. Is it true that when you love a woman you are never sure– never sure of her because you aren’t sure of yourself?
To a monster the norm must seem monstrous, since everyone is normal to himself.
… a man is a very important thing-maybe more important than a star.
And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.
I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents…. The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?
But ‘Thou mayest!’! Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice. He can choose his course and fight it through and win
A man, after he has brushed off the dust and chips of his life, will have left only the hard, clean question: Was it good or was it evil? Have I done well – or ill?
In East of Eden, John Steinbeck wrote that there’s never been a great creative collaboration. When the Beatles first burst on the scene, I thought they were proving him wrong. Later, we learned that Lennon and McCartney had each composed their pop masterpieces separately, individually. So it goes.
We have only one story. All novels, all poetry, are built on the neverending contest in ourselves of good and evil. And it occurs to me that evil must constantly respawn, while good, while virtue, is immortal. Vice has always a new fresh young face, while virtue is venerable as nothing else in the world is.