She wasn't happy, but then she wasn't unhappy. She wasn't anything. But I don't believe anyone is a nothing. There has to be something inside, if only to keep the skin from collapsing. This vacant eye, listless hand, this damask cheek dusted like a doughnut with plastic powder, had to have a memory or a dream.
John SteinbeckAbout author
- Author's profession: Author
- Nationality: american
- Born: February 27, 1902
- Died: December 20, 1968