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From the Norwegian poetry ring

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It's the birthday of novelist John Steinbeck, born in Salinas, California (1902).

The Grapes of Wrath is generally considered his masterpiece. In it, he wrote:

"The cars of the migrant people crawled out of the side roads onto the great cross-country highway, and they took the migrant way to the West. … And because they were lonely and perplexed, because they had all come from a place of sadness and worry and defeat, and because they were all going to a mysterious new place … a strange thing happened: the twenty families became one family, the children were the children of all. The loss of home became one loss, and the golden time in the West was one dream."

John Steinbeck said, "The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true."

And, "The basic rule [of writing] given us was simple and heartbreaking. A story to be effective had to convey something from the writer to the reader, and the power of its offering was the measure of its excellence. Outside of that, there were no rules."

And he said, "A book is like a man — clever and dull, brave and cowardly, beautiful and ugly. For every flowering thought there will be a page like a wet and mangy mongrel, and for every looping flight a tap on the wing and a reminder that wax cannot hold the feathers firm too near the sun."

((((I like the `wet many mongrel`!!!))) ha ha.Love to all from Ann at Anna and Barry`s!!!

I hope to one day write a poem of the present discontent. If only one line of it imparts even a shadow of Steinbeck's talent I'll die a happy man (other than the dying part of course )........scribbler

the beauty of the illusion.
John Steinbeck said, "The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true."

"I truly believe this when I write, because in that lonely moment it is my truth."

thanks Ann for reminding me why I do it. It is about me, when I write
Eddie C.

LIFE ISN'T ABOUT WAITING FOR THE STORM TO PASS
IT'S ABOUT LEARNING HOW TO DANCE IN THE RAIN.
VIVIAN GREENE

Glad you liked this, yes I agree, although afterwards I am not so confident about what I have written, then later, occasionally, I experience surprise-did I truly write that, I couldn't have done, wow, its an odd conversation one has with ones mind isn't it, some things just come out when inspired to come out, and take on by surprise; was that in there-the grey matter- forgotten and now woken up!

Love to you too Stan, I don't want you to die either, you have many more lovely poems to write!
Love to you both Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

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